0 


1 







I 








v.' "-VS ;•>- ‘i’'V*‘ ^ 

' v •■;^•v^l:v■^‘V5i: .•^;:V';f •A'.; 

V. •,W.v;,^•»^^■.<'v^ v-rV'’'‘^'v;V. ^^:.‘'.V-*' '^’-'r': '•,■ ’ ^ ^ 

• : » * * «•.*. J v* n • t*- . k* • i ?a- » -V r*. ft * 1 1 . ' \ 

. • V . . 1 ■• • • •- * <1 •• •' i . . *• • i- • % • I i\ •/» ♦» * » — s ^ ^ • ♦ ^ . i 


1 




New York,- 


booooooooooo oooooaoooooooooooo 



HoUTEN’S 



o. 





Mr. Pickwick. 

^‘Best & Goes Farthest.'" 

The Standard Cocoa of the World- 
A Substitute for Tea & Coffee. 
Better for the Nerves and Stomach. 

Cheaper and more Satisfying. 

At all Grocers. Ask for VAN HOUTEN’S. 

Perfectly Pure— “ Once tried, used always.’* 

S'^°A comparison will quickly prove the ^reat superiority of Van 
Houten’s Cocoa. Take no substitute. Sold in |-8, !“4, I -2 and 
I lb. Cans, If not obtainable, enclose 250. in stamps or postal note 

to either Van Houten & Zoon, 106 Reade Street, New York, or 45 Wabash 
Ave., Chicago, and a can containing enough for 35 to 40 cups wili be 
mailed z/" you znention this publication. Prepared only by the inventors^ 
Van Houten & Zoon, Weesp, Holland. 


0000000000000 000000 00000000000 




A WOMiN’S REfENGE ; 


OR, 


The Mystery ol the Black Pines. 


A POPULAR NOUEL 


BY 



MRS. J. K. RHICHHARD, 

% \ 

Author of '‘Mr. Clifton of Barrington,” Etc., Etc. 


0 


(pcpy^KHt, ^1, by . J, Ogilvie.) 


I 


cOPYRig//;. ' 

I AN 14 189? — j) 

THE SUNNYSIDE SERIES, No. 49. Iswed. Monthly. January, 1892. 


f 

'T^C^ 

Subscription, $3.0(>per year. 


Entered at New York Post-Office as second-class matter. Copyright, 1890, by J. S. Ogilrie. 


New York : 

J. S. OGILVIE, PUBLISHER, 

57 Rose Street. 


'it 




A WOMAN’S REVENGE 


CHAPTER 1. 

The great white spires of the grand cathedral stood 
out in bold relief, against a dark blue sky, studded 
with innumerable stars. It was a December night, 
clear, but moonless, a keen frosty air swept with a hiss- 
ing whistle through the white spires and played fitfully 
about them. 

Of the persons who passed continually up and down 
the street, few turned their eyes up to that grand mon- 
ument of architectural skill, so dignified, so grand in 
its aspect, and yet standing so grim in the darkness. 

Yet there was one individual who appeared to be 
heedless of the cold biting air, in his admiration of the 
magnificent structure upon which he fixed his eyes. 
As the man, closely buttoned up in a thick great-coat, 
the upstanding collar of which reached his ears, and 
ran like a boundary wall round his mouth, stood with 
folded arms regarding the building, so far as his sense 
of architectural beauty and fitness went, the building 
might as well have been the Tombs. 

At this moment a distant bell tolled the hour of nine, 
and as the last beat was vibrating through the air he 
muttered : 

“ That will do for me though I can’t see a clock, I 
must look about me now, for she is sure to be here. It 

(S) 


4 


A woman’s eevenge. 


would not be wise in me to miss her, or even to keep 
her waiting for me, she is so very haughty and — 
hah ! ” 

A woman’s hand was laid upon his wrist. 

“ Oscar Ross,” she whispered, “ you are punctual. 
Lead the way, I will follow you— not a word ; I have a 
suspicion that we are watched. A hint is enough for 
you. Quick, away with you.” 

“ Oh, ah ! ha I I understand ; but what if I am too 
nimble for you ? ” 

“ Have no thought of me,” responded the woman. 
“ For your life don’t look back, you will not escape my 
vigilance.” 

“ No,” he muttered, “ that I am well aware of.” 

He advanced with a hesitating step toward the 
church. Suddenly he quickened his pace to a brisk 
walk, and directed his steps toward Broadway, intent 
upon the purpose he had in hand, wondering if the 
strange woman he had met by appointment was still in 
his rear, for he had been light of foot. He ran suddenly 
against a man. 

An angry oath escaped the lips of both, and each 
bent upon the other a fierce look. There was a simul- 
taneous cry of recognition. 

“ Oscar Ross ! by heaven ! ” cried the other man 
with a sudden shout of vengeance. “ Scoundrel, at 
last I have you.” As he muttered the last words he flung 
himself upon Ross, but the latter, with a desperate ex- 
ertion of strength, threw him off, and leaping in turn 
upon him, inflicted a blow upon his head which felled 
him to the ground ; then he fled. 

Fled, with the hoarse cries of “ Police ! ” and yells 
of “ Stop thief ! ” filling the air. 


A woman’s revenge. 5 

Fled, with the hurried tramp of many feet ringing 
like the terrible beats of an alarm-bell in his ears. 

He continued the rapidity of his movements until, 
by many an anxious backward gaze, he felt assured he 
might safely make for an asylum at hand. 

At the door of a small house, in a dark street, he 
paused for an instant before entering ; then he pushed 
open the door, rushed into an unlighted passage and 
groped his way up a staircase until he reached the top 
flight ; dashing open the door of an apartment, he flung 
it to and then threw himself, panting, upon a chair. 

A slight shriek, as of a frightened one at his abrupt 
entrance, caught his ear on entering the room ; but he 
took no notice of it. He pressed his clenched hand to 
his side to stay the rapid palpitations -of his heart, and 
closed his eyes while he essayed to recover the breath 
expended in his sharp run. 

As soon as he could articulate, several terrible oaths 
escaped his lips. 

“ I am the most unfortunate devil,” he muttered, 
“ to run against him alive, and he ought to be dead, if 
any man ought. What in the name of Satan, am I to 
do now ? ” 

A low, but clear, female voice said, at his shoulder : 

“ What has happened ? ” 

“ Happened ! ” he echoed ; “ the devil and all — don’t 
ask any questions, it would be a riddle to you if I were 
to tell you that I came face to face with a dead man, 
and fled like a dear from him.” 

. “ Or like a hound ! ” muttered the same voice, in a 
Jow contemptuous tone. 

He turned around fiercely to the speaker only to 
change his angry words to an exclamation of surprise. 

Before him stood a tall girl, with a pale face, bright 


6 


A woman’s bevenge. 


black eyes, jet black hair. She was wrapped in a large 
shawl of shepherd’s plaid, and she had her hat on. 
Her right hand rested on a parcel which stood upon a 
small table. 

For a moment Oscar’s breath seemed quite as spent 
as when exhausted by his long run ; but, quickly re- 
covering himself, he said to her : 

“ What is all this pantomime ? Wh}^ are you dressed 
up in this way — what’s that parcel for? ” 

“ I am going, Oscar Ross.” 

“ Going ? The devil you are ! going where ? ” 

“Anywhere, so that I leave you.” 

Oscar grated his teeth. 

“ I must be in a dream,” he growled. “ Three such 
events could not in actual life so tread on each others’ 
heels. But she ! I will deal with her first. Take off 
your hat and shawl and put the bundle away.” 

“No! I will not. I have counted the cost of my 
decision — I leave you, and to-night.” 

“ It takes two parties to make a contract,” exclaimed 
Oscar, advancing to the door ; turning the key in the 
lock he put it in his pocket. 

As he did so the girl sprang to the window. Throw- 
ing it open she leaped on to the sill. 

Oscar uttered a yell of horror. 

The girl turned her pale face and gleaming eyes upon 
him. She pointed to the door. “ Unlock it ! ” she ex- 
claimed with stern brevity. 

“ Grace, girl, what would you do ? ” gasped Oscar, 
shivering with fright. 

“ Leap out, unless you unlock the door.” m 

He knew the girl too well ; and with trembling eager- 
ness, he obeyed her. 

“ Place the kej^ upon my bundle, and retire to the 


A woman’s KEVENGE. 


7 


corner of the room or the work is but half done. It is 
but a leap, and I have little heart to refrain from taking 
it.” 

He tottered ratjier than walked to the table, laid 
the key where she had indicated and shrank to the 
wall. 

Then in a moment, she was in the centre of the 
room, and took the key. 

As she did so Oscar Ross darted to the window and 
secured it. 

“ Stop ! ” he cried with a loud voice, as she proceeded 
to quit the room. “ One word with you before you 
leave.” 

She turned in the doorway, and silently waited what 
he had to say. 

“ You have an untamed, stubborn self-will ; but let 
me tell you, however, just now it is convenient to me to 
be quit of you. Still you are my daughter ! ” 

“ I do not believe it.” 

“No? Who placed you when a child at school? 
Whose name have you borne from your earliest recol- 
lection ? Mine — Ross. Who has brought you hither, 
who has kept you ever since? I, Oscar Ross, your 
father.” 

“ Not my father ; oh no ! not my father. I could not 
despise, or so loathe you if you were.” 

“ Despise and loathe me ! ” reiterated Ross, fiercely. 
“ Why should you do this? I have been kind to you. 
I tell you, girl, your mother — a more bright and beauti- 
ful woman than you ever will be — thought differently.” 

* “ Tell me of her ? ” cried the girl, with a sudden and 
passionate earnestness. “ Tell me of her, of whom I 
have never heard, whom I have only seen in my 


8 


A woman’s eevenge. 


dreams, tell me of her, and I will stand in patient 
listening till the dawn ” 

“ You had better choose a time more fitting for 
family revelations, than this ! ” said a voice, just be- 
hind Grace Ross. 

She turned swiftly, and beheld a woman thickly 
veiled, standing in the doorway. 

Grace retreated a few paces into the room, followed 
by the strange visitor. 

‘‘ Mildred, by the Lord Harry ! ” ejaculated Ross, 
with astonishment. 

The newcomer closed the door behind her and said, 
addressing the man : 

“ Oscar Ross, I have kept my word. You have not 
escaped my vigilance.” 

“ I did not expect that I would,” returned Ross. 

Nor will you that of others, if you remain here. 
It was my intention to have entered into a new arrange- 
ment with you respecting this girl ; but one glimpse of 
him you have to-night encountered, and, further, the 
knowledge that at this moment the police are on your 
track, have induced me to change my plan, and sud- 
denly to adopt another. Have you any other mode of 
escape save by the outer door below ? ” 

“ Yes, by the way of the roofs,” exclaimed Ross, in 
:in agitated and excited manner. 

Avail yourself at once and should you get safely 
away write to me. You know where. It is important that 
we should meet again, and soon, for there is murli to 
do that must be done. Go ! leave the girl to me.” 

Ross was evidently awaiting only the signal to 
depart. He nodded to his guest and passed out of the 
door, leaped up the stairs and disappeared over the 
roofs of the adjoining houses. 


A woman's revenge. 


9 


As the sound of his retreating footsteps died away, 
she who had counselled flight advanced and closed the 
door. 

Almost at the same moment the girl, who had 
watched with silent earnest intent the departure of 
Oscar Ross, muttered with emotion : 

“ He is not my father.” 

Then the strange visitor flung up her veil, and the 
two face to face scanned each other with an eager 
scrutiny. 

“ Grace Ross, you do not know me but I do you. 
You have seen me before though you cannot remember 
that event. Know me now as Mildred Dupont, your 
friend so long as you may be entitled to call me such.” 

“ You say that you know me ; am I that man’s 
daughter ? ” 

She pointed in the direction which Ross had taken. 

“Ask your earliest recollections,” was the curt reply. 

“ The man who has left us is a reprobate, a drunkard, 
and a thief.” 

“No?” 

“ He has no honor.” 

“ Beware how you speak of him ! ” 

“ I fear nothing from him ! from you ! from any one 
on earth ! I have had my burden chained to me from 
childhood, I can endure anything now ; else had I 
scarcely dared to trust myself a stranger to its ways, into 
the world, and strive for my share of its gifts, so that I 
might live. What signifies it now, if tliat it be un- 
shackled, free, independent of the down-trodden con- 
trol I have only known.” 

A shade passed over the features of Mildred Du- 
pont. 

“ I have met you opportunely ; ” she said. “ You 


10 A woman's keVenO^I. 

stand on the brink of fate, a gulf yawning on either 
side — death, or dishonor.” 

“ The first, perhaps — the last, never ! ” cried Grace, 
with flashing eyes. “ If 'I had thought grief or misery 
were eternal unless compromised by dishonor, I had 
perished long since. You do not know^ me, woman.” 

“ I shall know you better now. You were about to 
leave Ross. Will you come with me? ” 

“ Where'? ” 

“ Where, at least, you will be free to go or stay when 
you grow weary of it, or from any other cause.” 

“ That man Ross — will he be there ? ” 

“Ross? no, certainly not.” 

“ I will go witli you. I care for naught else,” cried 
Grace, quickly. 

“ Come at once, then,” said Mildred, with sudden 
hastiness of manner. 

She led the way down the ricket}^ stairs as she spoke, 
and Gi'ace followed her closely, having by her direction, 
extinguished the lights. 

They had scarcely passed into the street when they 
became conscious of the approach of a mob of per- 
sons following a half-dozen policemen. Mildred seized 
Grace by the wrist. 

“They are in pursuit of Ross. Quick, this way; 
quick, girl, quick ; your safety from the jaws of prison 
depends on your speed.” 

Bewildered, Grace Ross followed the counsel of her 
companion, and hurried in the opposite direction to 
that in which the mob was advancing. 

Onward they hurried, Mildred apparently mistress 
of her route ; her young companion indifferent to the 
way selected, or to any urgency for speed. 

A cab passing, Mildred stopped it and hired it. 


A woman’s kevenge. 


11 


Placing Grace in it, she, in alow tone, directed the m^i 
whither to drive, and then following in, drew up the 
windows and pulled down the blinds. The driver, 
obeying her instructions, dashed away at a rapid pace. 
They entered a brilliantly lighted street, when the cab 
made a momentary pause. 

The roll of carriages and other noises, caused Mil- 
dred to raise the blind of one of the windows nearest 
to an elegant mansion where a grand ball was given 
that night. 

One carriage is yielding up its freight of youth and 
beauty. 

A young handsomely dressed man gives his arm to a 
fair girl, whose head sparkles with jewels, and upon 
whose shoulder hangs an elegant white opera cloak ; he 
assists her to alight, and conducts her into the man- 
sion. 

The cab driver lashes' his horses into a gallop, and 
leaves the scene behind. 

“ How beautiful ! ” exclaimed Grace with a sigh, as 
she fell back in her seat. 

“ Did you see that gentleman’s face.? ” asked Mildred, 
eagerly. 

“ I did.” 

“And will you remember it ? ” 

“ I shall never forget it.” 

Mildred was silent until the cab stopped at the corner 
of a fashionable street, the cab discharged. Mildred 
hastened on up the street until she reached the entrance 
of a splendid mansion, turning down to a side entrance. 
She seized Grace by the hand, conducted her with cau- 
tious steps over the graveled paths, until she reached a 
flight of steps, leading to the breakfast-room of the 
handsome mansion. 


12 


A woman’s revenge. 


These she ascended ; and noiselessly opening the 
door leading to the stone steps she entered the room, 
proceeded slowly and silently over the richly carpeted 
floor to a door, and opening it without a sound, passed 
through into a passage, and so as it appeared to Grace, 
up a narrow flight of stairs, and thence into a room. 

She fastened the door, then, advancing to the chan- 
delier, turned it up to its full height until the room was 
filled with light. Grace pressed her hands, over her 
eyes, they were so dazzled. 

When she again removed them, she was startled to 
find standing before her a woman, who was in appear- 
ance wholly the opposite to her who had brought her 
there, save in the face ; there was no alteration in 
that. 

Mildred Dupont had thrown aside her loose cloak, 
and old-fashioned hat with its thick veil, and the some- 
what crouching gait she had assumed. She now ap- 
peared in a rich crimson velvet ball dress, her white 
arms and neck contrasting brilliantly with the deep 
superb color of her attire. 

Grace could scarcely credit the testimony of her 
eyes, and but for the face — that face which underwent 
no change — she would have believed that she was in 
the presence of an apparition. 

Mildred raised her finger to prevent Grace speaking, 
and herself, in a low tone, exclaimed : 

“ Reserve your wonder ; this is but the first of a series 
of surprises in store for you.” 

Then she removed Grace’s hat and shawl, and sur- 
veyed her attentively in her plain attire. 

“ You are good-looking,” said she, after her inspec- 
tion. “You will be extremely handsome, if there is 
any virtue in a well-ordered toilet. Of that hereafter. 


A woman’s eevenge. 


13 


Now mark me, and heed me ; I am one of the invited 
guests to that ball to which we observed so many car- 
riages driving as we came here ; to that mansion, at the 
door of which we saw a face I have bidden you to re- 
member. I will go there to-night. You will remain 
here alone, locked in this room.” 

She opened, as she spoke, the door of a narrow room, 
adjoining that which they were in. 

“ You see it contains a bed and all the appointments 
of a sleeping-room, and you may be comfortable in it 
though it is small.” 

“ But why locked in ? ” asked Grace, with a sus- 
picious air. 

“ For many reasons,” was the reply ; “ not one of 
which I can give you. Let this suffice. You will be 
in the possession of the key, and you will find bolts 
upon the door inside. I .use the precaution to prevent 
intrusion upon you, not to confine you against your 
will. I will release you in the morning, and then we 
will determine upon our future course. Time presses, 
I must leave you now. Retire ; be silent as the grave 
until I tap three times on your door in the morning. 
Fear not that any one will attempt to come near you, 
for the door is kept locked and the key is always in my 
possession. Good-night.” 

Confused and staggered by all that had transpired in 
the last few hours Grace, in silence obeyed, and entering 
the small chamber, closed the door. As she was about 
to lock it, she opened it and once more confronted the 
singular woman who had brought her there. 

Now she saw a change upon those features — a 
strange, unearthly, indescribable expression. 

Was it joy? exultation? triumph? — what? Grace 
could not tell. Her flesh crawled over her frame. 


14 


A woman’s revenge. 


“ Tell me ! ” she said, in accents of intense earnest- 
ness. “ You knew me' in years past, what am I to 
you ? ” 

Mildred clutched her wrist, and in a whisper, whose 
hissing sound filled the room, replied : 

“ Some families have great secrets — You are mine ! ” 


CHAPTER II. 

The first owner of Falcon Manor was wise in his 
generation ; he built his dwelling in a sequestered spot 
overlooking the beautiful Hudson. 

Fully alive to the value of peace, he left an injunc- 
tion to those Avho succeeded him, “ Not to interfere in 
the affairs of the nation — to attend to the cultivation 
and improvement of the estate — to care for themselves, 
for it was Heaven that cared for all.” 

His successors followed his counsel and profited by 
it. 

Like all buildings of such ancient parentage, it stood 
upon a hill, and commanded a fair and noble prospect. 
Glancing over fertile valleys, and rich pastures, it 
rested upon that glorious river — which, for picturesque 
beauty, from its source to its confluence, surely stands 
second to none in the world— the Hudson. Beyond 
was the luxuriant purple Catskill mountains. 

Although the estate was called Falcon Manor it was 
generally known as the Black Pines. 

Falcon Manor looks picturesque as it stands, backed 
by an extensive plantation of magnificent black pines. 

It was current for miles away, among those who 
dwelt in the vicinity, by the name it had won from a 
dark deed committed in the park by one of the Fal- 


A woman’s kevenge. 


15 


cons in times long past. A fair girl’s fame and life, 
and a near relative’s blood, were mingled in the wild 
tale of crime ; and it was further stated, the deed had 
never yet been atoned. 

It was said the shadow of the guilt yet rested on the 
house. The brightest and best of its race had been 
smitten down always in the moment of exaltation. 

The present possessor, Milroy Falcon, passed his 
days rather in secluded retirement than in pursuing the 
ordinary routine of a country gentleman’s life. 

Yet twice during the year he visited New York, 
and each time remained for a short term at the town 
house. 

He was not misanthropical, sullen, reserved, or freez- 
ingly distant. To all by whom he was surrounded he 
was an enigma. 

Save one ! 

ifn * * * * 

One beautiful wintry afternoon, as the sun was de- 
clining early, Milroy Falcon stood silently gazing 
through the panes of an antique window. In the room 
sat two ladies, one young and beautiful, the other, 
older, handsome and stately. 

“ Do you not weary of this dull place, Ora, and 
long to join again in the gaieties of New York? ” 

The young girl started from her reverie ; a slight 
flush suffused her cheek as she replied hurriedly : 

“No, indeed, my dear madame ; no, I am not dull, 
nor fatigued with the quiet seclusion, as you so fre- 
quently term it, which we enjoy here. See how beau- 
tiful are the hills, the dales, the river ; then what 
charming walks through the parks, and through the 
woods, and the black pines ” 

“Who spoke of the black pines?” cried Milroy Fal- 


16 


A woman’s revenge. 


con sharply, breaking from his fit of abstraction, and 
turning toward them with a strange wildness in his 
eyes. 

Ora rose to her feet, and regarded him in surprise. 

“ Milroy ! our dear little guest was deep in hef 
praises of Falcon Manor and you have interrupted 
her.” 

She fixed ber bright eyes on him as she spoke, and 
the clear tones of her voice rang in his ears. 

In an instant he was composed and calm. 

“ A thousand pardons ; continue, Ora, you will find 
me an interested listener.” 

“ I intended only to say that within this fine old 
building, and abroad in the park and woods, there is 
so much to delight and interest, that one ought never 
to be weary here.” 

“ Never ! ” said Milroy Falcon, relapsing into a rev- 
erie again. 

“ So you are fond of walking in the woods. Ora ? ” 

“ They are so grand,” she replied. 

“ Alone of course ? ” observed her friend, without a 
feature being moved. 

Ora looked at her inquiringly. “ I think that I pre- 
fer a companion ; but you do not rise early, and Rod- 
erick is away with his tiresome gun, so I am obliged to 
walk alone.” 

“Suppose Wilton Granger had been a guest here, 
would he have served as a companion in your walks in 
the deep old woods ? ” 

Ora blushed. “ There would have been no better 
prospect for me,” she answered. “ I still should have 
to wander alone, Wilton would have been sure to have 
been dragged into the woods by Roderick and his odi- 
ous gun.” 


A woman’s revenge. 


17 


“ What about Roderick ? ” said a voice behind them. 

They turned, a fine handsome young man stood near 
Ora. 

“ What ! scandalizing and traducing- me ? O Mildred, 
I expected better treatment at your hands,” he ex- 
claimed, with a laugh. 

“ It was your sister, not I,” replied Mildred ; “ but 
you know the adage, old as the hills yonder, and you 
have added another proof to the many of its truths.” 

“Unfairly treated again, by Jove!” he exclaimed, 
still laughing. “ Why, I entered the room, boldly, and 
openly enough I imagined ; but no ! there stood Mr. 
Falcon, with his eyes fixed upon the black pines ” 

“ Who taunts me with those hated black pines, do 
you, sir?” cried Milroy Falcon, suddenly wheeling 
round, and advancing with fierceness to the young 
man, who with astonishment, stepped back. 

“ Milroy Falcon ! ” cried Mildred, “ you forget our 
young guest is yet a stranger, and is not likely, at first, 
to rightly comprehend your jests.” 

“ Jests echoed Milroy Falcon sharply, and then 
suddenly burst into a laugh. “ True, true,” he said. 

Before there was time to reply, or for the electrified 
Roderick to recover his composure, and endeavor to 
discover the joke, the sound of carriage wheels, driv- 
ing sharply over the hard drive leading up to the house, 
struck on their ears. 

“ Visitors ! ” cried Milroy, hastily ; “ I can receive no 
one — I will receive no one to day.” 

“ You forget,” said Mildred, “our orphan cousin, was 
to have been here to-day, this must be her arrival. A 
near relative of Milroy’s and mine,” she added, turning 
to Roderick and Ora. “ Poor girl ! left an orphan ; 
rich enough, but poor, in having lost both parents, 
2 


18 


A woman’s eevenge. 


You will receive her kindly for my sake, will you not, 
Ora ? ” 

Ora assured her she would most gladly ; while Rod- 
erick offered at once to rush off to the entrance and 
receive her. 

“ No,” said Mildred, “ I will bring her here — or we 
will meet at dinner.” 

“We will meet at dinner,” exclaimed Milroy, ab- 
ruptly ; and, with a bow to his guests, quitted the 
room. 

Mildred, with a few hurried words to her guests, hast- 
ened to receive her expected visitors. 

“ This is an awfully slow place. Ora.” 

“ It is a grandly beautiful place, but ” 

“ The people — that is Milroy — and— and my fingers 
were so cold, I couldn’t pull the trigger ; I wonder I 
didn’t shoot one of the dogs when my gun fell.” 

Ora looked up in wonder at this incoherence, and 
was startled to find Milroy walking slowly into the 
room again, with his arms folded on his breast, wrapped, 
in profound meditation. He stationed himself at the 
window, and gazed out upon the old wood, which, in 
the swiftly approaching shades of night, was blending 
into one cold,' grey, solid mass. 

Beckoning to Ora to follow him, Roderick, with 
noiseless step, retreated from the room. She with a 
lingering glance at Milroy slowly followed, Roderick 
closing the door after them without a sound. 

With a few words of wonder they separated to dress 
for dinner. 

When the hour for dinner arrived, Milro}^ and Mil- 
dred, accompanied by the young girl who had arrived 
an hour ago, entered the dining-room the same moment. 


A woman’s eevenge. 


19 


but by different doors: Mildred presented the young 
girl to Milroy. 

As his hand came in contact with hers, her voice 
reached his ears. He instantly fastened his eyes upon 
her face while his own became at once of livid white- 
ness and his whole frame shook. 

It was but a momentary spasm, the struggle passed 
away, and he made a few remarks to her upon the lone- 
liness of her journey, and his hope that she would be 
cheerful and happy in his house. 

The girl bowed with silent dignity ; and then Mil- 
dred turned and introduced her to Roderick, and Ora 
D'Olier, as her cousin Grace Montrose. 

It was Grace Ross. She was pale but fairer, her 
eyes brighter, her lips more deliciously red ; her hair 
beautiful and glossy, her rich but neat dress set off her 
elegant form to the fullest advantage. 

The dinner passed off more cheerfully than it had 
done since Roderick and his sister had been at the 
Manor. Over the dessert, Roderick suddenly ex- 
claimed : 

“ This is New Year’s Eve ! ” 

A silence as of death followed ; Milroy set down the 
glass he was putting to his lips untasted, and fell back 
in his chair. 

The face of Mildred assumed an unnatural white- 
ness, as though the words had thrilled the marrow in 
her bones. 

Instinctively the eyes of their guests were turned in 
amazement on them. 

Grace knew that the words had some mysterious 
effect, and she broke the silence. “ I welcome it ! ” she 
exclaimed, in clear tones. “It is the day of the 
funeral of buried tortures and signified griefs ; it is 


20 


A woman's kevenge. 


the advent of a time which may bring brightness and 
joy, to compensate for those memories of the past, 
which sear the brain and the heart, while they do noth- 
ing to alter the fiat of inevitable destiny. It was a 
happy symbol to my thinking which represented the 
new year as a butterfly springing from its untenable 
tomb, the shell of the old once -crawling chrysalis. At 
last it has wings and the free unimpeded air, with 
liberty to roam, and the world all before it to begin its 
new life in.” 

Roderick regarded her with earnestness. “ You can 
have had but few tortures, Miss Montrose,” said he. 

“ School-girls have their tortures. They would be 
women when they are children, and the shackles of 
their school duties are viewed as tortures intolerable.” 

Grace had always more love for the power to roam 
over the woods, than she had for the trammels of 
education. 

“ Nevertheless, Miss Montrose has turned her bond- 
age to advantage ! ” exclaimed Roderick ; then he 
added, hastily, “ I mentioned the fact of this being 
New Year’s Eve, because I was about to propose that 
we should welcome in the new year with becoming 
honors in a novel way. The night is bright and clear, 
and there is a hill just beyond the plantation of black 
pines ” 

“ Pardon me ! ” exclaimed Mildred, in haste inter- 
rupting him, her eyes flashing as they turned on Milroy 
Falcon, who suddenly pressed his marble white hand to 
his brow, as though a sudden pain distressed him. 
“ This is an old house,” she added, in a lower tone. “ It 
has its superstitions, and there is one connected with 
this night. For the sake of the weak, of the credulous 
of the household, who cherish idle traditions pertain- 


A woman’s revenge. 


21 


ing to those of an old race, we always retire early on 
this night, so that absurd stories told by terrified people 
may, if possible, be prevented and die out*” 

This changed the conversation, but it was carried on 
with less animation than before. 

Suddenly Milroy exclaimed, unconscious of the pres- 
ence of those around him : “Will this day never, 
never end ? ” 

Mildred at once rose up instantly, and accompanied 
by Grace and Ora, left the room, leaving Milroy and 
Roderick alone. 

The clock in the tower chimed the hour of ten. As 
the last note died away, Milroy hastily arose, and bade 
Roderick good-night and left ; and Roderick heard his 
footsteps rapidly retreat along the corridor, and as the 
footsteps ceased he heard a door close loudly. He left 
his wine and sought the ladies, hoping to have a chance 
to talk to Grace and have some music; but found that 
they had retired for the night; and with a feeling of 
dissatisfaction he made for his own room. 

Grace Avas alone with Mildred in her dressing-room. 

“ You have acquitted yourself admirably,” observed 
Mildred ; “ perhaps, howeA^er, it is due to your natural 
character to pass such an ordeal with ease. There are 
others Avhich you may have to undergo of far more dif- 
ficulty , you must nerve yourself to encounter them, 
for they may happen at any moment. Forget the 
name of Ross, and 'remember only that you are a 
Montrose.” 

“ Am I not? ” asked Grace, haughtily 

“You are what I say you are,” returned Mildred, 
almost imperiously ; “you must content yourself to be 
so. Who you Avill prove to be is a matter for some dis- 
tant day ; now you are a IMontrose.” 


A Woman’s kevenge. 


The tower clock chimed sonorously in the still air. 

“ What hour is that ? ” exclaimed Mildred, with sud- 
den quickness. 

“ A quarter of twelve,” replied Grace, looking at her 
watch. 

Taking up a small lamp in her hand, Mildred beck- 
oned Grace to follow her. 

By a small door at the end of the room, they passed 
into a narrow passage and then up a flight of stairs 
which terminated at a narrow corridor. Mildred 
passed along this, closely followed by Grace, and then 
ascended a winding stairway. When they reached the 
top of the stairs they entered a small room. She 
placed her lamp so the light would be hidden, and 
drawing Grace to the window they looked out. 

The night was clear and bright. The sky was studded 
with myriads of glittering stars, and the country far 
away could be seen looking solemnly dark, and still, 
and calm, as though plunged in soulless repose. 

“ What is the meaning of a visit to this place at this 
late hour ? ” asked Grace, shuddering. 

“ Be silent ! ” was the reply. 

Presently Mildred grasped her by the wrist, and 
pointed into the park beneath. Following the direc- 
tion with her eyes, Grace saw the dark figure of a man 
flit rapidly across the white surface, and then disappear 
in the plantation of the black pines. 

Mildred opened the window ; the night was very 
still, and the cold was intense. 

Suddenly a fierce gust of wind rushed whistling and 
moaning past the tower. At the same instant Grace’s 
heart was chilled by the sudden chiming of the clock 
above them. 

It tolled the hour of twelve. 


A woman’s eevenge. 


23 


It was as though the solemn peal would never end. 
As the last stroke died away Mildred clutched her by 
the hand and said, in a startling voice : 

“Hark!’^ 

A wild cry rose from the plantation of the black 
pines ; it made Grace’s blood run cold. 

The same strange expression shot over the features 
of Mildred Dupont, as when in New York as she stood 
outside the narrow bedroom door. 

She whispered in Grace’s ear : 

“This, too, is a secret of our house.” 


CHAPTER III. 

Oscar Ross having safely avoided the police, pur- 
sued a circuitous way until he had gained the Thieves' 
Sanctuary in the lower part of the city ; having secured 
a room not too much exposed to the public, or even 
private scrutiny, he remained closely within his kennel 
for more than a week. 

One night he emerged from his hiding-place and 
made his way along the river front until he got in the 
neighborhood of the Brooklyn bridge. 

In a small street in that densely populated district, 
there was a store where might be had anything or 
everything in a small way. The proprietor called him- 
self a general dealer, and was fairly entitled to the ap- 
pellation, for he sold bread, boots, eggs, hats, coal, wood, 
potatoes, butter and tea^ In fact there were few things 
Hook Flint did not sell. 

Before this store Oscar Ross paused, and looked 
about him ; then he quietly entered and stood still 
while several customers were served. 


24 


A woman’s KEVEKGE. 


“ Now, sir ? what will you have ? ” 

Ross glanced at the speaker, and saw that she was a 
bright eyed, pretty faced girl. He smiled blandly, and 
in a low tone replied : 

“ I’ve called for a letter.” 

“ A quarter of butter,” responded the girl, quickly. 
He smiled fascinatingly and pinched her soft round 
chin. 

“A letter, my precious — a letter, my sweet puss ! ” 

The girl, who happened to have a broad -bladed, 
wooden butter-knife in her hand, dealt Oscar Ross a 
blow on the cheek with it so sharp that the sound might 
have been heard many doors off. 

“ Don’t you do that again ! ” 

“ And don’t you do that again J^ou vixen ! ” roared 
Ross. 

Startled by the report of the butter-knife upon 
Ross’s cheek, the proprietor of the store made his ap- 
pearance from a small room, back of the store, and in- 
quired the cause of the disturbance. 

“ Nothing,” said Ross, “ nothing. Hook, my merchant 
prince, but that your daughter Fan, tried to kill a fly 
upon my cheek, and — at least hit him. You have a 
letter for me, ‘ O. R.,’ to be called for here ? ” 

‘‘ Why ! ” cried the girl, suddenly bursting into a 
laugh, “is that you, Mr. Ross? You look so scrubby 
and grubby, I didn’t know you.” 

“ I am Oscar Ross, at your service,” responded Ross, 
echoing her laugh ; “just now, I admit, under a cloud.” 

“Of dust!” added Fan, repeating her laugh; and 
then adding with a graver face : “Seriously, I hope I 
didn’t hurt you, it was all pla3ffulness, you know.” 

“ Clearly,” replied Ross, with a slight cough. “ I 
would only suggest that, content with a sample of your 


A woman's revenge. 25 

playfulness, I shall not attempt to obtain an example 
of your earnestness.” 

That I suppose is your letter,” exclaimed Hook 
Flint, handing him one with the address written in a 
woman’s neat hand. 

Ross nodded, and took, almost snatched it, from him. 
He broke the seal, and carefully taking possession of 
an enclosure, he read the contents of the letter. 

A smile passed over his features as he went on read- 
ing, and an exclamation of satisfaction burst from his 
lips as he concluded it. 

“The cloud has become a speck on the horizon,’’ he 
said; “it will soon disappear altogether. The grub. 
Fan, is about to become a golden butterfly.” 

“Not a moment too soon,” she answered, as she 
turned to address herself to a customer, who had just 
entered. 

“ Hook Flint, I have something to say to you. I can 
make it worth your while to listen to me — but not 
here.” 

“ Where ? ” inquired Hook, with a blank look. 

“ Not here — in this store,” returned Ross sharply, 
and pointing to the back room ; “ in there, up-stairs, any 
place where no other ears than yours hear what I shall 
say to you.” 

Plook Flint mused for a moment. Presently he 
said : 

“ You don’t look as though you could make it worth 
my while to listen to you.” 

“ Granted, O keen-sighted physiognomist ! ” replied 
Ross; “but I have the wherewithal in my hand, if I 
have it not on my back, though I will have it there 
soon. Behold, sceptic, and let your doubts be scared 
away.” 


26 


A WOMAN^S KEVENGE. 


He flashed before the eyes of Hook Flint a bank- 
note of considerable value, and that individual, filled 
with emotion at the sight, satisfying himself that it 
was genuine, led the way to a small sanctum, the door 
of which was in a very narrow, dark passage, and its 
situation perceptible only to the experienced hand of 
the general dealer. 

The door closed with a spring, and Hook then said 
that they were alone. He asked what he would receive 
for such service as might be required of him. 

“ Sensible infant! ” replied Ross. “It is wise in you, 
but know that the aid and service I will require of you, 
will be multifarious, varying in its value as it becomes 
difficult or light; your reward will, therefore, be rate- 
ably in accordance with the small or great importance 
of your assistance. Terms cash — no ci’edit required, 
how will that suit you ?” 

“Well, yes,” answered Hook; “only which of us is 
to fix the price? That's a strong point, don’t you 
know.” 

“Sometimes you — sometimes your humblest of serv*- 
ants — myself,” responded Ross. “ Should we differ 
upon the amount in such cases — well, if we cannot 
settle it by arrangement, the contract shall terminate 
by mutual consent.” * 

“ That will suit,” said Hook ; “ and now what first? 

“ First, then, you will provide me with a warm sup- 
per, then lodgings for the night. To-morrow you will 
secure me a gentlemanly outfit such as none but the 
most wealthy attire themselves in. So you will under- 
stand that you will be required, in the commencement of 
your engagement, to act, perhaps, at a moment’s 
notice ; you will have your instructions given to you. 


A Woman’s kevjenge. 27 

We are employed as the instruments of a woman’s 
revenge. More, it is in vain to seek to know.” 

“ I am to understand that you and I are to be em- 
ployed as the instruments of a woman’s revenge ! ” 
exclaimed Hook Flint, as Ross ceased. 

“Sage bird,” returned his companion; “you have hit 
the blot. You are so good at guessing — guess now 
that I need some supper, and quickly.” 

“You shall have it; I will speak at once to Fan 
about it, and also concerning your bed. Oh, you may 
depend upon my serving you well, friend Ross! ” mut- 
tered Hook Flint, as he left the room. “ To be the min- 
ister to a rich woman’s revenge, is to be an officer on 
good salary. That will pay I ” 

“ Mildred is playing a deep game,” Ross said, reflect- 
ively; “but I don’t quite see her object, nor what is to 
come of it. Well, what matters ; I shall make a good 
round sum out of it. Wliat a pity we should be so 
near related. I believe she is passionately in love with 
me ; I might for that have had her and her money. 
How I would have spent it ! I possess all the elements 
requisite for the disbursement of wealth, and what am 
I — um ? Fortune, you jade, you deserve to be an old 
spiteful maid. To me and for me, I suppose you will 
remain, as you always have been, accursed misfortune. 
Mildred ! wonderful and extraordinary woman, ar- 
bitress of my fate, provider of my funds, and general 
conductor of mine on the way to Inferno, you are my 

only staff, my sheet-anchor, my ” 

His soliloquy was here cut short by the arrival of his 
supper. He turned with a smile upon his grim face, to 
greet the attendant, 'who he was convinced was the 
pretty Fan ; but was disconcerted to find in her place a 
bony woman, verging on seventy, with a countenance 


28 


A woman’s EEVENGU. 


of the hue of mahogany, and features very strongly fur- 
rowed, as though hard work and sore affliction had been 
through her long life straggling for the right to slay 
her ; but not having succeeded, they had left fearful 
traces of their incessant contention upon her visage. 

Oscar at once turned his eyes from her to his supper, 
and made a few remarks, to which she gave no reply, 
even after they had been twice repeated. It was not 
until a fourth time he yelled what he had to say to her 
in her ear, that she acquainted him with the fact that 
she was very deaf, and that she had been appointed by 
Mr. Flint to be his attendant during his stay. 

“ Sha’n’t trouble you much,” grunted Ross ; and then 
muttered, “ Hook thinks Fan’s a moth, and me a flame ; 
very well, more ways to catch moths than by scorching 
their wings. Cunning Hook! artful child I two to one 
I will come out ahead.” 

He dispatched his supper in silence, retiring in dis- 
gust to a narrow bed in a small room, which was not 
fragrant with the odor of a thousand flowers — unless 
they were camomile flowers — and with some words 
upon his lips respecting Hook Flint, which was not a 
pure prayer for his future welfare, he sunk into a pro- 
found sleep. 

It was at least two hours past midnight when his 
door stealthily opened, and his elderly attendant stole, 
with noiseless step, cautiously into his room. 

She held in her hand a lighted candle, the light of 
which she cautiously shaded with her hand as she ad- 
vanced into the room. She made her way directly to 
the bed where Ross was sleeping, and cast a sharp glance 
at his face. It was composed and still, save that the 
mouth was open, and sounds came therefrom indicative 
of the strength of his slumbers. 


A woman's kevenge. 


29 


Seemingly satisfied with her investigation, the old 
woman looked round the room, and then made toward 
the chair upon which Ross had thrown his shabby 
clothes. These she carefully gathered up in her arms, 
and retreated from the room with her prize. 

She descended the stairs, and passing along a narrow 
passage, paused before an abutment in the wall. A 
spring touched, revealed an entrance, through which 
she passed, and closed again, leaving her in a confined 
apartment alone with Hook Flint. The room, naturally 
of small limit, was densely stored with packages ; there 
was a profuse quantity of plate ; trays, salvers, knives, 
forks, spoons, in gold and silver, together with trinkets 
of all descriptions ; packages of silks and satins — it is 
not possible to enumerate the contents which crammed 
the shelves and floor of this storeroom. They were 
the produce of many a burglary, and have come into 
the possession of Hook Flint, by purchase, at a very 
heavy discount from their true value. Upon a char- 
coal fire was a crucible, into which Hook, busily en- 
gaged ill removing precious stones from bracelets, rings, 
and other ornaments, was from time to time throwing 
fragments of the precious metal. He looked up as the 
woman entered, and gathering up the brilliants and 
other precious stones on the table, put them into a 
small iron casket. 

He was mucU attached to the old woman — a confi- 
dential servant of long standing — but he would not 
have trusted her in sight an inch from his elbow, much 
less out of it. 

“ Well, Meg,. my woman,” he exclaimed, in an under- 
tone, “ have you got what I sent 3^ou for? ” 

“ Here they are,” she replied, producing Ross’s 
clothes. “ I don’t know what’s inside the pockets ; the 


30 


A woman’s revenge. 


rags themselves ain’t worth a nickel — not as rags they 
ain’t.” 

“ Give them to me ! give them to me 1 I don’t want 
you to value them, that ain’t what I want ! ” he ex- 
claimed ; and, then carefully opening it, he examined 
the bank-note and an order upon a firm in Wall 
Street to pay from time to time such sums as the 
bearer, mentioned by name, might require. 

Having made a copy of the draft, and a memoran- 
dum of the date and number of the note. Hook re- 
folded it, and replaced it in tlie pocket again. 

“ Ain’t a going to give him the bank-note back again, 
are you ? ” exclaimed the woman, regarding Hook with 
an air of surprise. 

He waved his hand for her to keep silent. Not 
satisfied with rummaging the pockets, he felt the coat all 
over, and in the collar detected some substance thicker 
than the cloth. He proceeded closely to examine it, 
and found a most ingeniously contrived pocket ; he 
dived quickly into its contents with eager eyes. 

“ All gold ! All gold ! All gold I ” 

“Where ? ” cried the old woman, with a gluck like 
an old hen. “ I don’t see the ghost of a dime ! ” 

“ Peace, woman ! you know nothing. I’ve got here 
what is worth many a thousand, if well managed — a 
bank which will always honor the demand — a great 
family secret. Hush ! not a word.” 

He placed the paper in a drawer and the pocket-book 
returned to the collar of the coat ; and Hook gave a 
grin of satisfaction as he was about to hand the clothes 
back to Meg. 

At this moment several packages piled in a corner of 
the room, fell to the floor with a startling noise. 

Meg uttered a shriek ; and Hook, with a countenance 


A woman’s revenge. 


31 


aghast, sprang to his feet, and gazed upon the disor- 
dered heap which had fallen down. 

He caught up a big knife and motioned to the woman 
to bring a light. 

“ I — I — I don’t like,” gasped the old hag, “ ’tain’t no- 
body — it’s a ghost.” 

“ Idiot,” growled Hook, and dashed to the spot 
where the pile had tumbled down. He snatched the 
light out of Meg’s trembling hand, and searched every 
spot he could get at very closely, without detecting 
anyone. 

“Thought so — badly packed ; they must be slacked 
better when they are put up again. Shan’t do it to- 
night: — the morning will do.” 

“ Told you it was a ghost,” said Meg, with chattering 
teeth. 

“ The things tumbled over by themselves,” said Hook, 
snappishly. 

“ Ah, you may say so, but you thought somebody 
was there ! ” 

“ I did ! ” ejaculated Hook. 

“ Who ? ” 

“ Fan ! ” he exclaimed, in a whisper. 

“What would you have done to her if it had been? ” 
gasped the woman. 

“ Cut her throat,” he replied, in the same low but 
frightful tone. 

The old woman shivered. 

“Why, the gal’s abed and asleep long ago ! ” she ex- 
claimed, in a half-suffocated tone. 

“ I’m not so sure about that,” returned Hook ; “ I 
think she has taken to prying. If I only catch her 
once at it — only once — only once — she’ll do it no 
more. Here, take Ross’s clothes back again, and put 


32 


A woman’s revenge. 


them where you found them. Mind, don’t wake him, 
or he will not stand about throttling you, especially 
if he finds you with his clothes in your hands.” 

The old woman nodded, and left the room ; while 
Hook, with a grim smile on his face, resumed his task. 

The morning broke brightly; and about nine o’clock 
the sun struggled through the dirty window panes of 
Ross’s room. Ross gradually opened his eyes and gazed 
with a bewildered look about him. After a momentary 
effort he recognized the place. 

He seized his clothes, and hastily dressed himself. 
Taking up a small bell which stood upon the table, he 
rang it sharply. 

He rang it again — and again — and again— and if the 
last peal had not brought Meg, the bell stood a fair 
chance of being shattered to fragments. 

As soon as the gaunt old woman presented herself he 
pounced upon her, and dragged her into the centre of 
the room, and bawled in her ear : 

“ Breakfast, and Hook Flint ! ” 

Then he bundled her out of the room, at a swift 
pace ; and returning flung himself upon a chair. 

The breakfast made its appearance and so did Hook 
Flint. Immediately the old woman left the room, 
Ross said with a grunt : “ Don’t like the accommoda- 
tions.” 

“ What is wrong ? ” asked Hook. 

“ Everything ; the room is cramped and dirty ; and 
the attendant ” 

“ Meg — very good servant, a most excellent old wo- 
man, ” interposed Hook* 

“ I have no notion, I assure you, of perishing by ma- 
laria, or by the equally unsatisfactory fate of a broken 
blood vessel.” 


A woman’s revenge. 


33 


Ross spoke gravely, and his features wore a very 
serious look. Hook believed that Ross spoke with sin- 
cerity. Now he had no wish to part company with 
him at present, at all events; he therefore promised 
that an alteration should be made, and that Fan should 
be substituted for Meg. 

As Ross’s only object in complaining was to obtain 
Fan for an attendant, he ate his breakfast with apparent 
gusto. 

A barber was next introduced, and received particu- 
lar instructions regarding the work required of him ; 
under which Ross would have moustache, and a care- 
fully trimmed, pointed beard, a la Vandyke. He hoped 
to present, in about ten days, the appearance of a dis- 
tinguished foreigner. 

When he had been shaved and trimmed, and when, 
by the tailor’s aid, he was dressed in elegant and well- 
fitting jclothes, his appearance presented a startling 
contrast to that which his arrival at the establishment 
of Hook Flint had greeted the eyes of Fan. 

Oscar Ross possessed a remarkably handsome face, 
in which were deeply set, full, clear, dark brown eyes, 
with full lids. Although past forty, he looked younger, 
now that the appliances of the tailor and the hair- 
dresser had been enlisted in his service ; and gifted 
with an oily tongue, and unscrupulous callous uncon- 
scientiousness, he was well fitted to obtain a powerful 
control over an ignorant or yielding person. 

Fan had some slight previous acquaintance with him 
as a visitor to her father — always upon some secret 
business ; but she had never seen him to such advant- 
age as now dressed, as he was in the highest style of 
fashion. 

It was not without its influence upon Fan. His gaze 

3 


34 


A woman’s kevenge. 


upon her, whenever, according to the new arrangement, 
she entered the room, was tender and earnest, only too 
earnest, and the pressure of his fingers whenever they 
came by accident or design in contact with hers, was 
too decided not to be noticed or misunderstood. 

It is hard for a woman who is subjected to a course 
of warm attention, an artillery of loving glances, to 
believe that there is not real love at the foundation of 
it all. 

Fan thought nothing of Ross when she first saw him 
— less when she smacked his face with the butter-knife ; 
but she was now struck by his appearance, and she felt 
flattered by the manner in which he addressed himself 
to her. He treated her in no boisterous manner at 
first, but by degrees he obtained possession of her hand, 
and at length she only reluctantly withdrew it. His 
arm was permitted to encircle her waist ; and he was 
not reproved when he drew her gently to his breast, 
and pressed his lips to her forehead. 

So passed two weeks, and the time arrived for Oscar 
Ross to take his departure. On the day he was to 
leave he took the opportunity of being alone with Fan 
to take his farewell of, and to arrange a mode of com- 
munication with her, to be known but by themselves 
alone. 

“ And do you really love me ? ” asked Fan, looking 
fondly up into his eyes, after some ardent protestations 
by him. ' 

Ross attested his love for her by an oath. 

“ And will you always continue to love me, Oscar ? ” 
she asked, with an imploring murmur. 

“ I am not a white-faced boy, Fan, my darling,” he 
said, “ to change at every new and pretty face I see. 


A woman’s revenge. 


35 


So long as you love me, and prove your affection for 
me, so long will I continue to adore you.” 

The girl’s eyes swam with tears. 

“ 1 will one day prove my love for you, Oscar,” she 
said, with a sudden earnestness. “ I have discovered 
something which will one day be of the greatest im- 
portance to you, and I will reveal it to you.” 

“ What is it? what is it ? quick. Fan, dearest. Your 
father will be here in a few moments, and then it will 
be too late.’* 

“ No,” she said hurriedly, “ not now — at the proper 
time I will be prepared. Hush ! I hear my father’s foot- 
steps. Good-bye, Oscar, don’t forget me, write as soon 
as you can ; you know where.” 

Oscar snatched a kiss which was passionately re- 
turned, and the girl ran out of the room. 

She had not been gone a minute when Hook made 
his appearance, dressed in black with a white necktie 
such as clergymen wear. 

“ Excellent ! excellent I ” cried Oscar, surveying him. 

“ All is ready,” returned Hook, “ the cab is around 
the corner.” 

“Let us be off,” said Ross, seizing his new hat. “Be- 
fore I return here do let that ancient Mohawk squaw 
try the effect of a little eau de cologne upon this local- 
ity.” 

Hook, with a spiteful grin at the remark, quitted the 
room after him. Meg on tip-toe followed him closel]' 
In the dark passage she gripped him by the wrist. 

“ Fan ! ” she whispered. 

“ Well ! ” he replied, impatiently. 

“ He has obtained the key of her heart,” she said. 

“ I will through her, make him my slave, and through 
him compel her to do whatever 1 choose, at which now 


36 


A woman’s kevenge. 


she rebels. Oh, I did not let her attend him for noth- 
ing, Meg, my woman ! When I want to end the tri- 
fling — as soon as it ceases to be of use to me, that will 
be — I will cut his picture out of her heart. But watch 
her, Meg, watch her closely. I have lately had my 
doubts about her ; watch her, watch her ! ” 

He overtook Ross, and conducting him by a private 
passage — instead of passing through the shop, where 
Fan, with eyes red with violent weeping, was serving 
customers of all kinds — thej^ passed out into another 
street, and jumping into a cab, drove rapidly away. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Whitney Falcon Burdell claimed, descent from 
the common ancestor of the Falcons. It was said 
that he only lacked certain proofs to complete and 
perfect his right to Falcon Manor, and all its lands, 
possessions, etc., as the true lineal ; and it was known 
that he openly declared himself to be the oldest living 
representative of the eldest branch of that family, 
although Milroy Falcon had succeeded to the estates 
as heir-at-law. 

But the grievance had been one of long standing; 
and it was rumored by those acquainted with the ante- 
cedents of the families, that the deed which gave to 
Falcon Manor the title of the Black Pines was one in 
which both families were mixed up; Whitney Falcon 
Burdell’s being the only suffering, and aggrieved branch. 

The feud, long existing, was not now healed ; Whit- 
ney Burdell knew very little, personally, of the present 
occupier of Falcon Manor, nor did he seek to improve 
his knowledge. He was content to remain a passive 


A woman’s eevenge. 


37 


enemy of the usurping family, as he styled Milroy 
Falcon, and to await the possibility of the latter dying 
childless ; for, in such a case, his branch, beyond dis- 
pute, succeeded to the family estates. 

Not that Whitney Falcon Burdell needed it ; for 
he had an ample fortune and a fine property also. But 
he coveted it. The impression that it legitimately 
belonged to him made him wish for it, though he made 
no movement to obtain it. 

Haughty and proud as he was, he would have 
welcomed with warm familiarity the humblest individ- 
ual who could have furnished him with any of the 
missing documents, which would open up the way to 
win the Falcon estates to himself. 

This weakness was known to one who knows how to 
make use of it. 

Whitney Burdell had been married the second time. 
By his first wife he had a son, who is now at West 
Point, known among his friends as the genial happy 
lieutenant, Ray Burdell. His daughter, Dottie, had 
finished her education, and had made her dehut into 
society, and society had pronounced her a beauty. 

' Yet she had a loving nature, with a large proportion 
of sweet humility. 

Mrs. Bertha Burdell, Dottie’s step-mother, was but a 
very few years older than she; she was handsome, 
beautiful, graceful and imperial. 

She had married Whitney Burdell for money and 
position in the aristocratic world. 

“ I have made a sacrifice,” she said when alone one 
day. “ He expects me to make a continuous self-abne- 
gation of myself to him.” The cry soon went up from 
her heart, why — oh, why did she marry a man old enough 
to be her father ! the answer fraught with bitterness 


38 


A woman’s kevenge. 


came back to her, money and social position ; and were 
tlie}^ worth the sacrifice she had made ? So far they 
had not, but time would tell the rest. 

“Dottie, did you see Roderick D’Olier, at the recep- 
tion last evening? ” asked Mrs. Burdell. “ He is seldom 
absent from Mrs. Thornton’s receptions.” 

“ He was not there ; he is, I believe, on a visit for 
the holidays.” 

“Where?” asked Mrs. Burdell. ‘^Do you know, 
Dottie ? ” 

She turned her eyes timidly to where her father sat ; 
but he seemed deeply buried in the perusal of his 
papers. 

She raised her finger, in caution to Mrs. Burdell, and 
then said : 

“ Somewhere along the Hudson ; I think his sister 
Ora is with him.” 

“ He is one of the few sensibly agreeable young men 
we occasionally meet with,” said Mrs. Burdell. 

“ Yes, very,” murmured Dottie. 

“And very handsome. It is rare to find so many at- 
tractions combined in one individual,” added Mrs. 
Burdell. 

Mr. Burdell raised his eyes from the document he 
seemed to have been abstractedly perusing, and said, 
sharply : 

“ Mr. Roderick D’Olier appears to have well estab- 
lished himself in your good opinion, Mrs. Burdell ; 
a great favorite of yours, I presume, madame.” 

“ Mr. Roderick D’Olier appears to create few enemies. 
He is of good birth, large fortune, highly educated, 
handsome, gentle and unassuming, though manly in his 
manner and disposition ; I should conceive most amiable.” 

“ I have no doubt he expresses himself highly grati- 


A woman’s bevenge. 


39 


fied and duly sensible of the value of the high estima- 
tion in which you hold him, Mrs. Burdell.” 

A gleam shot from her eyes like a flash of lightning, 
and her throat swelled, but she made no remark. 

Dottie, however, who had evidently listened to her 
father with surprise, exclaimed : 

“ Indeed, papa, you are in error. Roderick D’Olier 
has not the least idea that mamma has so good an 
opinion of him ; indeed, he said to me the last time we 
met him at Mrs. Thornton’s, he thought it strange that 
one so- young and beautiful as mamma should treat 
every one with such disdain.” 

The eyes of Mr. and Mrs. Burdell met; he removed 
his quickly, and went on reading his paper. 

“ Did you observe, mamma, last night, a strange, pale, 
quiet-looking gentleman who stood for some time near 
the ballroom door ? He was elegantly dressed, but so 
abstracted in manner.” 

A faint color spread over the face of Mrs. Burdell, 
but not a feature moved from their quiet set expression. 

“ I did,” she replied, calmly. 

“ I don’t see how you could have avoided observing 
him,” continued Dottie. 

Why ? ” asked Mrs. Burdell, quietly. 

“ Because I do not think that he took his eyes off 
you during the whole time he remained in the ball- 
room. Did you see him?” 

“ I did,” said Mrs. Burdell. 

“ Do you know who he is?” inquired Dottie. 

“ No, do you ? ” 

“ I was told he is of a very aristocratic family, but 
my informant had forgotten his name.” 

“ It would be of little consequence if it had been 
remembered,” remarked Mrs. Burdell. 


40 


A woman’s revenge. 


At this moment a servant entered the room and 
handed to Mr. Burdell a letter. He hastily broke open 
the seal, and read the contents. On concluding it, he 
said to the servant in a quick tone : 

“ Where are the gentlemen ?” 

“ In the green reception-room, sir.” 

'“Show them here.” 

As the liveried servant disappeared, Mr. Burdell said 
to his wife and daughter : 

“ I am about to introduce two gentlemen to you, to 
whom I desire to pay something more than common at- 
tention. You will favor me by receiving them with 
courtesy as they will dine with us to-day.” 

Immediately the door was flung open and, “ Major 
De Montrose, and Doctor Fulton,” were announced. 

Mr. Burdell greeted them with marked condescen- 
sion, and then introduced them to his wife and daugh- 
ter. 

Both Mrs. Burdell and Dottie believed they had 
been introduced to persons of some note or import- 
ance. 

No such thing, they had been introduced to Oscar 
Ross and Hook Flint. 

What was their errand here ? 


CHAPTER V. 

The old year had passed ; the new year had been 
inaugurated by sharp frosts and driving sleet. On the 
afternoon of the coldest day of the new year, a trav- 
eler, upon a sturdy cob, trotted along a lonely road 
on the outskirts of the deep woods, upon the opposite 
side of which stood a house; the traveler slackened 


A woman’s revenue. 


41 


his speed as he came in sight of the house, and on 
reaching it he reined in his horse, and fixed his eyes 
upon the sign board, whose letters were past being de- 
ciphered. 

“• This must be the house,” he muttered ; “ even 
though 1 can’t make out the sign. Well, here goes to 
see ” 

He knocked on the door but received no answer, so 
he shouted loudly, “ House ! ” and “ Hostler ! ” 

By the time he began to have a suspicion that the 
house was to let, and there was no one within to mind 
it, the door opened, and a tall man, with a sharp visage, 
Roman nose, keen black eyes, and shining black hair, 
which fell in curly ringlets below his ears, made his 
appearance. 

“ Ah ! ” grunted the horseman, as soon as his eye fell 
upon him. “ I say, my man, can I put up here until 
to-morrow ? ” 

“You can,” replied the man ; “ for a year if it suits 
you.” 

“Ho, thank you,” quickly returned the traveler, with 
a glance at the bleak landscape, covered for miles on 
one side with dark woods, while on the other for miles 
nothing but stunted laui^l bushes. “ One night in this 
cheerful neighborhood will last me for a year or more. 
Here, help me off my horse ; I am stiff and numbed 
with riding, and he is weary of the hard roads.” 

“ All right ! ” said the man, laying hold of the bridle 
of the cob. He stood with his back to the neck of 
the horse, so as to give his rider the benefit of his 
shoulder to assist him down. 

“Are you the hostler? ” inquired the traveler as he 
alighted. 


42 


A woman's revenge. 


“No, I’m not; my name is Jesse Lings,” returned 
the man ; “ I am the proprietor.” 

“ Oh> you are Jesse Lings,” emphasized the trav- 
eler, suddenly fastening his attention upon him, and 
eyeing him curiously. 

“ Yes, what of it ? ” cried the man quickly, eyeing 
his intended guest, in return, closely and inquisi- 
tively. 

“ Nothing — oh nothing, Mr. Lings,” said the trayeler, 
with a slight laugh, “only perhaps you will be good 
enough to show me into the house, and my horse to the 
stable.” 

Mr. Lings turned over the care of the horse to a 
shock-headed stable boy, and then led the way info 
the house. 

Jesse Lings made rather a show of a spirit of gen- 
erous hospitality, for which, if the traveler had money, 
he intended to reimburse himself largely, and he ush- 
ered his guest, with a bustling manner, into the apart- 
ment, placing a wooden arm-chair near the glowing 
fire. 

A young woman was in the room, and she rose up 
as the guest entered. She was dark and handsome, 
with black eyes and black Imir, and like her husband, 
was of the gipsy tribe. 

Mr. Lings introduced her as his wife. The traveler 
bowed to her, and felt that the brilliant jet eyes, turned 
upon him, were doing the work of divination ; that 
if “ the mind could be read on the forehead,” the 
gipsy woman before him was making herself mistress 
of his, without suffering a letter to escape her. 

He returned the compliment by a stare so fixed, that 
. the black eyes gave way, and turned to her husband’s 
with a questioning expression. 


A woman’s bevenge. 


43 


He replied to the look with a peculiar glance, and 
then offered to assist the traveler in divesting him- 
self of his overcoat, an offer which was accepted ; and 
a powerful, well-knit man, was revealed when the rough 
coat and the woolen muffler were laid aside. 

“ You are well armed,” said Jesse Lings with a grin, 
which was not mirthful, as he perceived a brace of pis- 
tols confined at the waist of his guest by a narrow 
leather belt. 

The traveler drew them out of his belt and exam- 
ined their polished barrels and the locks, and then 
consigned them singly to pockets within the breast of 
his coat, on either side. 

“ Mr. Lings,” he said, with a peculiar decision of 
tone, I always go well armed ; these pistols are not 
my only weapons ; I am well practised and jDrompt in 
their use, I can assure you.” 

“It would not be at all winning to stop you on t’ne 
road, I should think,” hazarded Mr. Lings, fixing a 
penetrating glance upon him, and setting his teeth to- 
gether, so* that his cheek bones looked more promi- 
nent than ever. 

“ One man tried it,” returned his guest, “ and when 
he recovered he received a lesson on the tight- 
rope.” 

“ When he recovered ? ” echoed Mr. Lings. 

“Yes,” replied the guest coldly; “I thought I had 
blown, his brains out, but it appears that I only 
shot a part of his cheek, and a bit of his jawbone away ; 
but there — I am sharp, I can tell you. I want some- 
thing to eat, and I don’t want to talk about shooting 
and hanging, while I smell the cooking.” 

An evil expression settled on the young woman’s 
nut brown face. She made for the room door, and 


44 


A woman’s eevenge. 


as she brushed past her husband, she muttered in an 
undertone, 

“Jed!” 

Jesse Lings ground his teeth together, and a very 
suggestive gulp escaped his throat. He turned his 
eyes, gleaming like living coals of fire upon the trav- 
eler, and said to him : 

“You know something of the man you shot, I 
s’pose ?‘” 

His guest fastened upon him a steadfast gaze, and 
somewhat sternly replied : 

“I knew and cared for him as I do of, and for 
you, Mr. Lings. Understand me, I came here to be 
accommodated; and if there is any difficulty in the 
matter, say so, and I am off ; it is but about six or 
seven miles further to ride ” 

“ Oh,” interrupted the landlord with a savage grin, 
“ you shall be accommodated, never fear. Sit down, 
and I’ll have some dinner put before you in quick 
sticks. Sit down. You shall be accommodated, or my 
name ain’t Jesse Lings.” 

The glossyrringleted landlord, with eyes yet glitter- 
ing like a serpent’s, left the room. 

No sooner^ had he departed than the traveler ad- 
vanced on tip-toe to the door, and for a minute lis- 
tened with breathless attention to the low murmur- 
ings of voices at a short distance in consultation. 
Presently he returned to the fireplace, and ejacu- 
lated : 

“ Is it so ? It is wise to be cautious, and a good 
thing to provide for contingencies.” 

He drew out his pistols again, and looked care- 
fully to see that they were ready for use, and then 
returned them to his pockets; and from the sleeve 


A woman’s eevenge. 45 

of his coat he drew a formidable knife, which, after 
a slight inspection, he returned to its place. 

“ I don’t mind five if I can get my back against a 
wall,” he said, to himself ; “ but I had rather get 
what I want out of Lings without a preliminary strug- 
gle, if possible. The rascal is revengeful, but he 
is infernal mercenary ; that, I suspect, will prove my 
safeguard, else a night here won’t be altogether a 
feast of roses. Jed was the rascal’s name sure enough,” 
he muttered, “ and if he happened to be a near rel- 
ative of the amiable looking Mrs. Lings, I must not, 
in the event of a row, expect any commiserating, 
tender intervention on her part. Still, she is a woman, 
and a cat can be coaxed while her kittens are being 
drowned.” 

He was interrupted by the appearance of the woman 
in question to lay the cloth. He glanced at her face 
— there was nothing at all friendl}'- in the expression 
of her features. He spoke to her, and she replied 
with curt brevity. He was too hungry to be very 
civil, so a silence ensued. 

When he had finished his dinner, he invited Jesse 
LTngs to drink with him. Lings acceded, and sat at 
the opposite side of the fire ; Mrs. Lings, sullen and 
silent, also took a place by the fire, and a conversation 
between the traveler and Lings commenced upon dif- 
ferent topics. 

It was interrupted by the entrance of a tall, rough, 
gipsy-looking fellow, with a villainous sinister visage. 
Neither in dress nor manner would he be connected 
with anything but stealing. He nodded to Jesse Lings 
and his wife, and fixed an insolent stare upon the 
traveler. 

His mission soon developed itself. 


46 A woman’s eevenge. 

He had come to quarrel with the man who had pro- 
cured Jed a “ lesson in dancing on the tight-rope.” 

He commenced by making a variety of insulting 
personal remarks on the traveler, with a view to get 
up a struggle ; when it had been ingeniously arranged 
that Mr. Lings should pinion his arms behind, while his 
friend throttled the traveler, dividing the plunder and 
avenging the death of a relative at the same time. 

“ So soon ! ” thought the guest. “ Well, so much the 
better.” 

He glanced at the open door of the bar room, and 
then at Lings. His glance was so quick as to escape 
notice. The newcomer, at the same moment, took up 
the guest’s tumbler of brandy and water. 

“ You a gentleman ! ” he said, with a coarse laugh. 
“ You’re as ugly and mean-looking as one of our 
scabby calves in the marshes ; you are only fit to pay 
for my drinks.” 

He raised the glass to his lips, and drained the con- 
tents. 

He was off his guard. 

A jug of boiling water was upon the table. With 
the quickness of lightning the traveler seized it in h?s 
hand, and dashed the scalding liquid into the drinker’s 
face. 

“ Take the water too ! Have it all ! ” he cried ; and 
then flinging at him the jug, which struck him violently 
on the head, he leaped upon him, fastened on to his 
throat, forced him out of the room, through the door, 
way, along past the bar-room. Opening the door, he 
hurled the scalded blinded wretcli upon the hard earth 
beneath the elm-tree. 

“ Lay there,” he cried, sternly ; “ and mark me, if 


A woman’s revenge. 


47 


you attempt to enter the house again, I will pick out 
your front tooth with a bullet ! ” 

He turned to enter the house. Jesse Lings and his 
wife were in the entry. He drew his pistols and pre- 
sented one at the head of each. 

“ Go in the parlor again,” he exclaimed, in a determ- 
ined voice. 

They hesitated ; and they heard the sharp click of 
both hammers drawn back, ready for discharge at the 
touch of the trigger. They somewhat precipitately 
made their way to where they were bidden. The 
traveler followed them, but drew the bolt on the outer 
door ere he joined them. On entering the parlor he 
closed the door and placed his back against it. 

“ Mr. Lings,” he said, with a firm calmness of 
demeanor and voice, “ it is time we came to an under- 
standing — we are playing at cross-purposes now. You 
sent for the blackguard I have just flung into the road 
to ” 

“ Oh, no, I did not ! ” deprecated Lings, raising both 
hands, and shrinking from the steady point of the 
muzzle of one of the pistols aimed at him. 

“ Yes, you did, with a view of wiping off a score 
you fancy you have chalked up against me,” responded 
the guest. “You were in error in two things: wrong 
in imagining that I have done swiything to excite 
revenge, and quite wrong in supposing that such a 
churl, or any three such as he you employed, could get 
the best of me.” 

The woman, evidently less alarmed at the firearms 
than her husband, or more reckless of danger than he, 
said, with a vicious glare upon him : 

“ Who shot Jed Lane, and then had him hanged ? ” 

• “You had better go to the Tombs and inquire,” ex« 


48 


A woman’s revenge. 


claimed the traveler quickly. “The name of the man 
I spoke of was Zenobia Niri, who stopped me on the 
Bristol road.” 

“ Zenobia Niri ! ” said Lings and his wife, in one 
breath. 

“ Zenobia Niri,” repeated the guest. 

“ Not Jed Lane ! ” exclaimed the woman. 

“ Never heard his name before,” said the guest, with 
emphasis. 

Mr. and Mrs. Lings were his humble servants. They 
begged him to put his pistols away, to sit down and 
make himself comfortable. 

“ Wait a moment,” said their guest ; “ this change in 
your manner is a little too quick to satisfy me.” 

“Not at all,” said Mrs. Lings. “Jed Lane was a 
relation of mine — Zenobia Niri the bitterest enemy me 
and my husband ever had. Zenobia took a fancy to 
me ; but when he knew I liked Jesse the best, and 
married him, he did all he could to injure us. So, you, 
instead of being an enemy, have proved a good friend 
by putting Zenobia out of the way.” 

“Sit down,” cried Jesse Lings, again. 

“ All in good time,” responded the guest, with com- 
posure. “ You must know that my visit here is not an 
accidental one. I came to this house to see you with 
an especial purpose. If I succeed, it will be a hand- 
some sum in your pocket ; if, however, you cut my throat 
while I am asleep, you will do yourself no good : 
because, first, I mentioned that I was coming here to a 
person, who, if I do not join him in the morning, will 
visit you with a very strong party, and put some awk- 
ward questions to you ; and, secondly, you will lose all 
chance of being well-remunerated for any assistance 
you may now and hereafter lend to me.” 


. A woman’s revenge. 


49 


“ All right, sir,” said Jesse. “ You can sit down 
after the explanation on the square — you needn’t be 
afraid.” 

“ Oh, make no mistake, I am not afraid ! ” replied the 
traveler. “ I am anxious only that there should be a 
clear understanding between us. I wish you, also, par- 
ticularly to know that I attend to my own business and 
not to other people’s. My eyes are for my own matters, 
my ears for what concerns me alone, and my tongue is 
better employed than in telling tales. So you see, 
whoever comes in or goes out of this house, or what- 
ever they do, so that they don’t interfere with me, I 
shall take no notice of whatever.” 

“ Now I does understand you all right ! ” exclaimed 
]Mr. Lings; promising^ with an oath, that his guest 
might consider himself as safe, so long as he remained 
at his house, as if he were protected by a troop of 
soldiers. 

“ Now to business. I want to find out the abode of 
a man, who, for many years, has been living in this 
neighborhood. He is, and has been for a long time, 
very poorly off ; and has supported himself, I believe, 
by the produce of his own garden, cultivated by his 
own hands. Do you know such a man? ” 

Jesse Lings looked at his wife ; she was engaged in 
re-perusing the features of their guest, and in thinking 
what a very much better looking fellow he was than 
her Jesse. 

“ Remember,” said the guest, “ I shan’t be afraid of 
ten, twenty, or fifty, to obtain all I want to know ; and 
I promise to pay you well if you by your aid, furnish 
even a clue to tlie information I seek. Those who know 
Jack Duke, know full well that he never breaks a 
promise he makes to man, woman or child ” 

4 


50 


A woman’s eevenge 


As he made allusion to the softer sex, he looked very 
hard into the eyes of Mrs. Lings. He saw that she did 
not return his gaze with the vindictive glare which she 
had before darted at him. 

There was a pause. Jack Duke, as he named him- 
self, repeated the words, 

“ Do you know such a man ? ” 

“ Let’s see,” ejaculated Mrs. Lings. “ There’s the 
Fodders and Kiefes and Reynolds and Snyders. They 
all does their own gardens and sells the produce.” 

“None' of them.” 

“ There’s the Millers and Loopers and Dutch Joe,” 
continued Jesse Lings, reflectively. 

“ And Mr. Burdell,” exclaimed Mrs. Lings, with em- 
phasis, fixing her bright black eyes on Jack Duke’s 
eqilally clear hazel orbs. 

He smiled and nodded to her. 

“ He is the man,” he said. “ Where does he live ? ” 

“ That’s just what I don’t know,” replied Jesse' Lings. 

“ Jim Hanks does,” observed Mrs. Lings, in a tone 
which challenged contradiction. 

“ Well, I s’pose he does,” responded Mr. Lings, with 
a'peculiar laugh. . 

“Where is he to be found?” asked Jack, eagerly. 

Jesse Lings laughed again. 

“ I expect that he. lies where you dhucked him, jest 
lip against the elum-tree.” 

“ He ! ” cried Jack Duke ; “ is he the man of whom 
you are now speaking ? ” 

“He’s no one else,” returned Jesse. 

“ Does he know much about Burdell, do you think ? ” 
interrogated Duke. 

“There isn’t many knows more, I believe,” inter- 
polated Mrs. Lings, before her husband could reply. 


A woman’s revenge. 


51 


She seemed now to be as much animated by a desire to 
serve Jack Duke as she had been previously to see him 
murdered. 

“Awkward — precious awkward ! ” ejaculated Jack 
Duke, stroking his pointed beard with a meditative air. 

The jet, glittering eyes of Mrs. Lings once more 
settled with a steadfast expression on those of Jack. 

“ I think that I can make up the matter between 
you,” she said, quickly, offering at the same time to 
leave the room, to seek the discomfited Jim Hanks. 

“ No — no,” interposed her husband, hastily ; “ you 
remain here. I’ll go and hunt him up. If he hasn’t 
gone, he’ll be as difficult to handle as a flurried hedge- 
hog. I’d better tackle him.” 

“ So I think,” observed Jack ; and added : “ Don’t 
you think a little golden ointment for his scalded chops 
will dispose him to listen to reason ? ” 

“ There ain’t a doubt on it,” replied Mr. Lings. 

“ Well,” said Jack, “here’s ten dollars for him ; but 
don’t let him think that I am sorry for what I have 
done, and would give him money on that account to 
keep him quiet. I am the aggrieved party now, you 
know, though I did teach him how ta catch a Tartar.” 

“ I understand all about it,” responded Mr. Lings, 
taking the money. “ I’ll make it all right with this in 
no time.” 

He quitted the room, and Mrs. Lings was all alone 
with Jack Duke. Their eyes met. Language was 
given, it is said, to convey thought. Looks were cer- 
tainly bestowed to convey a language words cannot ex- 
press ; and with a rapidity of utterance, too, which no 
oral communication could ever achieve. A faint smile 
curled Jack’s lip. He dived his hand into the recesses 
of a breast-pocket, and brought out a red niorocco 


52 


A woman’s revenge. 


case. He opened it, and displayed a large, vulgarly 
handsome pair of gold pendant earrings^ He held 
them before Mrs. Lings. Her black eyes fastened upon 
them with greedy admiration. 

“ Do you like them ? ” said Jack. 

“ They are beautiful,” she exclaimed. 

“ You may have them if you like,” he said, watching 
her features with a keen eye. 

“You are only joking with me,” she said, examining 
the baubles, with a covetous appreciation. 

“ I am in earnest ; and there are more things of that 
kind where those came from, waiting to be given to 
you, if you will do me just a little secret service, and 
keep faith with me too — for one will be of no use with- 
out the other.” 

“What sort of service?” she asked, still admiring 
the glittering earrings. 

“ To watch the actions of an individual ; and to let 
me know, from time to time, what he is doing, and 
what he is intending to do. Mind, I mean actually, 
and not what he may seem to be about.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” she inquired. 

Jack repeated his words, and added: 

“ Will you do it ? ” 

“ If I can, certainly.” 

“ You will?” 

“ There’s my hand.” 

He took it and pressed it tightly. 

“ And will keep true and strict faith with me, not 
breathing to mortal what you reveal to me ? ” 

She gazed steadfastly into his eyes, and responded 
by an undoubtedly strong oath. 

“ Put the earrings in your pocket. I believe, and 
have faith in you,” 


A woman’s revenge. 


53 


“ Who am I to watch ? ” 

“Your husband, Jesse Lings,” he answered, in a 
marked and distinct tone. 

She started. 

“ You said you were going to employ him ? ” 

“ So I am, and that is why I want you to watch him. 
So long as he acts rightly with me, all will go well — 
but he may not- do this ; and if he plays me false, it 
might occasion a rather serious ^trouble, so I only want 
to be prepared.” 

“ I understand,” she answered. “ You may depend 
upon me. Hush ! here he comes.” 

“ Not a word about the earrings.’ 

“ Not a word,” she returned, hastily. 

“ Not a sentence, for your life.” 

Jesse Lings entered the room, with a smile on his 
face. 

“ He’s gone,” he exclaimed. “ The stable boy helped 
him along a little way. He was burnt about the face, 
almost blind, and the breath half-shaken out of his 
body. He swears mortal vengeance, but I’ll see him 
by daylight and put^hings all right. Now, sir, sit 
down and enjoy your grog.” 

Jack did so, and exerted himself to be very agree- 
able to both. He told strange anecdotes, and sang 
songs with some taste and execution, and in an excel- 
lent tenor voice. He worked Jesse up to a high state 
of hilarity. He fascinated Mrs. Lings. 

As the night wore on he began to have an impression 
that figures flitted into the bar-room and out again ; 
that there were grim faces and glittering eyes glaring 
at him occasionally, though only for an instant. Jesse 
Lings, after a certain hour, was in and out of the room 
every two minutes. 


64 


A woman's kevenge. 


At length Jack expressed his desire to retire to bed ; 
and Jesse Lings, with an air of alacrity, preceded him 
to show the way. 

He bade Mrs. Lings good-night, and as their eyes 
met, she gave him a peculiar look, as though to put 
him on his guard — at least, so he interpreted it. 

After he bade good-night to Jesse Lings, he barred 
the door and examined the room. Everything ap- 
peared to be clean, and there seemed nothing to create 
suspicion. Yet he did not undress himself ; but, after 
examining his pistols to see if they were ready for use, he 
moved about his room some time, and then extinguished 
his light, sitting up dressed as he was to watch. 

He heard beneath the tramp of heavy feet, and had 
no difficulty in surmising that a body of men was en- 
gaged in some transaction, which they were too cau- 
tious to let in the light of day upon. 

While he was wondering what it could be, and spec- 
ulating upon the prudence of endeavoring to find out, 
he fancied that there was a faint glimmer of light flick- 
ering in his room. 

He turned his eyes instantly t6 the spot from whence 
he thought it proceeded, and with astonishment, accom- 
panied by a rapid action of his heart, he saw a small 
door, ingeniously contrived in the oaken paneling of 
the room, open, and the face of Nan Lings illuminated 
by the rays of a lamp, peering into the dark room. 

A moment, and he was before her. 

“ What is the matter? ” asked Jack. 

“ Dressed ! ” she uttered in a low tone. “ I thought 
you would have the sense to comprehend a look. En- 
ter this passage quickly — you have no time to lose — 
and follow me. Quick — be as silent as the grave.” 

He stepped into the narrow space at her side, and 


A woman’s EEVENGE. 


55 


she drew the door to, and fastened it with a broad flat 
iron bolt. As she did so, with a hurried exclamation 
she extinguished the light. The next instant he heard 
the door of his bedroom burst in with a violent crash. 

“We are not safe, even here,” she suddenly whis- 
pered ; and seizing his hand, said to him : “ Follow me 
— fear not — don’t stumble — I will tell you when to 
stop. Hush ! not a sound.” 

He followed, not quite sure that he was not, even by 
her, being conducted into some fatal trap. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Grace had no want of courage, or flrmness of char- 
acter ; she did not lack self-possession, nor did she want 
those sustaining powers which enable some to face, en- 
counter, and surmount emergencies of an essentially 
trying nature ; yet she gave way under the pressure 
of the strange circumstances by which she had been 
so suddenly and unexpectedly surrounded by her self- 
nominated cousin, Mildred Dupont, at the moment of 
the departure of the old year, and the birth of the 
new. 

It was not simply that she felt an involuntary tremor 
at finding herself alone with the singular woman 
who. had taken her under her protection, at the hour 
of midnight, at the top of the tower ; or that a strange 
dread crossed her when she saw a dark figure, flit 
like a guilty object across the park, and disappear in 
that sombre plantation which she had noted with an 
instinctive shudder on her arrival ; or that she felt a 
shuddering awe steal through her frame when that 
gasping, moaning gust of wind, swept whirling past 


56 


A woman’s bevexge. 


the open window in the tower, at the very instant 
the clock commenced sounding the hour of mid- 
night, as though it was the last expiring breath of 
the dying year. 

It was that wild, unearthly cry, which rose up from 
the plantation of dhe black pines, which curdled her 
blood, and thrilled the very marrow of her bones. 

It was the unearthly expression which the face of 
her companion assumed, the strange gleam of fiendish 
exultation which shot from her eyes, that made the 
heart of Grace suspend its beating, and caused her to 
remember no more until she found herself alone, in a 
darkness most intense. 

She placed her hands to her burning temples, and 
pressed them that she might collect her thoughts. 
She remembered vaguely what had taken place, and 
she then, in alarm, felt about her. She was in bed, and 
in her night-robe. 

She sat up — it was so utterly dark that she could 
distinguish nothing. She stretched her hands about 
and round her. She grasped the bed-clothes. She 
had an intuitive horror that she should place her 
heated hand upon a human face, icy cold. 

No. She was alone ! 

But how long had she been so ? — how had she re- 
covered from her faint ? — how, and by whom had she 
been disrobed? 

One question was answered for her. The toAver 
clock tolled the hour of three. 

It would be three hours to daylight. She was 
gradually verging into a frantic terror, when her na- 
tive strength of mind stepped in to her aid. She 
began to take herself to task for giving way to fear ; 
and, after an effort to control her weakened nerves, 


A woman’s bevenge. 57 

she succeeded, in some degree, in calming her perturba- 
tion. 

Still, that horrifying cry rang in her ears, and that 
fearful expression on the face of Mildred Dupot yet 
glared upon her, and interfered with her efforts to 
sink into a deep sleep. 

She now felt convinced that she was safely in bed, in 
the rooms that were to be hers while in Falcon Manor, 
and that if she could woo slumber, she could repose 
without fear of interruption. 

A superstitious tinge in the composition of her mind 
was simply natural, brought up as she had been, in a 
large, old-fashioned dreary house in a lonely place, 
filled by the changes of the wind, or by the varying of 
its force, with sti*ange sounds: companioned, too, by 
girls who, like herself, had no other home, and who, 
like herself, raised up idealities out of yearning liope- 
fulness ; who filled their dreary void with figures 
bright, and kind, and fair, because an actual life they 
knew not ; who fashioned faces to be seen in their 
dreams, and fancied voices in the air — the opposite of 
the woman who presided over the house, and therefore 
angelic. The more highly sensitive would aver that 
they had actually had visions, and held communion 
with spirits, making the flesh of their companions crawl 
and vibrate as, huddled together, they sat and whis- 
pered the falsities created by overwraught imaginations. 
It is not surprising, therefore, that she w^s a little too 
ready to lean to the marvelous, nor should it be con- 
sidered a proof of a deficiency of force of character; 
it, in truth, formed a portion of her education apart 
from her school life. 

She tried to find some clue to the conduct of Mil- 
dred Dupont ; some cause for the control she had as- 


58 


A woman’s bevenge. 


sumed over her ; why she should initiate her into the 
secrets of the house ; and however she could be Mil- 
dred’s secret. 

She fell into a state of dreamy reasoning. 

She opened her eyes, and they rested upon the calm 
pale features of Mildred Dupont ; yet with an expres- 
sion of commiseration or sorrowing pity in them. 

She sprang up in the bed. A moment since it had 
been blank blackness. Now the sunlight was stream- 
ing in at the window, playing upon the gilded furni- 
ture, and glittering on the many cut-glass ornaments. 
She stared at Mildred’s face. 

“ What does it all mean ? ” she said, excitedly. 

“ That you are lying late, and have been dreaming,” 
replied Mildred. 

Grace placed her hands over her eyes. 

“ Last night ” she commenced. 

“We retired early,” interposed Mildred. “The 
change from your recent abode, strange faces, people, 
circumstances, have a little deranged you.” 

“ Strange circumstances, indeed ! ” muttered Grace. 

“ You are feverish — your system is out of order ; I 
foresaw that such would b’e the case, and I have pro- 
vided you a little quieting drink. Here it is — drink it. 
I have excused your absence from breakfast, and have 
promised Milroy and our guests that you will m.eet 
them at luncheon.” 

“ Milroy Ealcon ? ” said Grace, in a tone of surprise. 

“Why not?” asked Mildred, elevating her eye- 
brows. 

“ But last night ” 

“ You have not yet recovered from your dreams,” 
once more interrupted Mildred ; and handing to her a 


A WOMAN^’S KEVENGE. 59 

wineglass with some crimson colored liquid in it, she 
pressed it on her, and prevailed upon her to take it. 

In less than a minute Grace was asleep once more; 
and when she again awoke, a maid, appointed to at- 
tend upon her, was ready to dress her. 

“ What hour is that ? ” she asked. 

“ Twelve, miss,” replied the girl. 

A cold thrill ran through Grace’s frame as she laid 
her head back on the pillow. 

“ Will you please rise now? ” inquired the girl, re- 
spectfully. 

Grace rose up quietly, and suffered herself to be 
dressed without speaking a word. The potion admin- 
istered to her by Mildred had stilled her nerves ; but 
it seemed to have rendered her not only powerless phys- 
ically, but mentally. It was an effort to walk, to 
think. It seemed to her as if she could only breathe 
by gasping. 

“ You seem fayit, miss. Shall I open the window ? ” 
exclaimed the girl, suiting the action to the word. 

Grace tottered toward it and leaned out ; the cold 
air played gratefully upon her hot face, and she felt 
greatly revived by its freshness. Her eyes, wandering 
with unsettled gaze over the lovely prospect before her, 
fell suddenly upon two figures walking in the park be- 
neath the window. 

It was Milroy Falcon, and Ora D’Olier leaning upon 
his arm. 

He turned his eyes upward, and they fell upon the 
face of Grace. He started back, recoiled several paces, 
and made some exclamation, which appeared to alarm 
Ora, for she looked hastily around her with a frightened 
look. 

Grace felt, she knew not why, compelled to retire 


60 


A woman’s revenge. 


from the window. Yet she wished that she might meet 
Milroy Falcon — might look in his face and read, if pos- 
sible, the tale she thought it must needs tell. 

Her strength seemed suddenly to come back to her. 
She, however, accepted the guidance of the maid to 
the room in which the luncheon was to be served, and 
entered in the full expectation of meeting Milroy 
there. 

But he was not there. Mildred Dupont sat alone, 
seemingly lost in contemplation. She roused up, on 
the entrance of Grace, and quitting her seat, advanced 
to meet her. There was kindness in her tone and man- 
ner, which was very acceptable to Grace, when she 
said : 

“ I am glad to see you better.” 

“ The events of last night came upon me so sud- 
denly, they were so strange and mysterious, that for 
the time I was overcome by them,” Grace replied. 

“ Dreams ! ” ejaculated Mildred, with a slight curl of 
her lip. 

“No,” retorted Grace, casting a hurried glance 
around her ; “ unless it is a dream for me to be here — 
a dream that I quitted, under 3^our guidance, the hated 
custody of Ross — a dream that you have declared to 
me that great families have great secrets and that I am 
one ! ” 

“ Hush ! ” exclaimed Mildred, hurriedly. 

“ Do not form an erroneous opinion of my firmness 
of character, or my strength of purpose,” observed 
Grace, “by last night’s weakness. I confess I was 
startled out of consciousness, but not out of memory ; 
nor shall I waver in the endeavor I shall make to un- 
ravel the strange mystery.” 


A woman’s revenge. 


61 


“ It would be dangerous, Grace, to make any such 
attempt.” 

“ Danger would not deter me, Mildred ; I have been 
schooled into self-reliance, and feel both armed and 
prepared to encounter all or any of the common trials 
or dangers to which in life, under ordinary or extraor- 
dinary circumstances, I may be subjected. I have forti- 
fied myself also to take up an aim, under all difficulties 
to carry it on, and never to yield it up to any opposi- 
tion, however overpowering.” 

“ You talk well, Grace,” said Mildred, with a smile, 
which might have been taken for a snear. 

“ And shall act I I have wrongs to avenge ! The 
hope of accomplishing that object has for years held 
me back from suicide,” cried Grace, with very deliber- 
ate and marked enunciation. 

“ Your wrongs to avenge ! ” echoed Mildred, slightly 
elevating her eyebrows. “What wrongs? ” 

“ What wrongs ! wrongs that I have brooded over 
from childhood.; the wrong of being a deserted, home- 
less, nameless thing ; discarded by those who should 
have cared and treated me as human ; gifted with a 

keen sense of position ” 

“ Proud, too ? ” said Mildred, in the same question- 
ing tone. 

“Proud in rebelling at my position, as a degraded 
outcast; proud in scorning to be considered a thing of 
shame, who could not enter the circle of society of 
those to whom I am by nature most closely tied, with- 
out calling up a hot blush of shame into their cheeks ; 
proud in my intense abhorrence to be outraged by the 

claim of the man Ross to be my father ” 

“Beware!” cried Mildred, with sudden and startling 
emphasis, 


62 


A woman’s revenge. 


“ Of what ? ” asked Grace, haughtily. “ Of whom 
— of Ross? I hold him in unmeasurable scorn.’’ 

“ How know you,” responded Mildred, “but that you 
area child rescued from rags and wretchedness, and 
placed from motives of charity in the very school you 
so bitterly condemn?” 

“ Why not ask me how I know that the man, Oscar 
Ross, is not my father ? ” she responded. “ It is be- 
cause I feel it in my heart — my soul. You have said 
that I am- what you say I am — who am I ? tell me that ! 
I am content to learn the w'orst ; content _to walk to 
the proud owner of this grand old mansion and these 
vast domains, and say to him, ‘ I am not your cousin 
_I am ’ ” 

Peace ! ” interrupted Mildred. “ I see you have 
a notion of self-will, and you wish it to be humored.” 

“ I have at least the will not to suffer indignity. 
For your kindness I could worship- you; for your 
taunts of dependence, my answer is to absolve myself 
from the condition, and to leave this r-oof and you at 
once — and forever.” 

“ No, Grace, not at least with that impression. You 
are free to go if you will, but not under the delusion 
that I have stooped to taunt 3^ou with dependence. 
You wrong me — I could not so shame my true sense of 
dignity and honor. I will confess to you that I do 
know who you are. I will tell 3"ou that j^ou are not 
justified in speaking of vengeance. I will also promise 
you one day to reveal all. The truth you can only 
know through me. My desire is to elevate, not to 
humble you. Stay with me, and I will be ^^our friend ; 
leave me, and T cannot attempt to predict 3"our fate. 
For the present, at least, be silent ; — hush ! compose 
yourself! I hear Milroy, your cousin^ — remember — ■ 


A woman’s revenge. 


63 


coming. Ora and her brother Roderick are with him. 
Forget last night, and beware how you drop a word 
having allusion to its events.” 

Grace, in the succeeding week, found that she had 
become the object of Milroy Falcon’s eager notice, 
when she iSelieved herself to be unobserved ; and the 
discovery occasioned her some uneasiness, especially as 
Mildred made her occupy a certain position in the eyes 
of Milroy Falcon. .She felt that, if closely questioned 
by Milroy as to her early life, she could not sacrifice 
her truth to countenance whatever tale Mildred might 
have told respecting her. 

She was glad, occasionally, to stroll by herself over 
some portions of the wild domains, if only to be alone 
— with her own thoughts. 

One morning, while alone, and deeply engaged in en- 
deavoring to make clear some of the strange mysteries 
by which she was surrounded, she was startled by the 
slight pressure of a hand upon her shoulder. She 
turned to find herself confronted by Milroy Falcon. 
His face was pale, and a sad gloom rested on his 
brow; yet he smiled’, but the smile was painful to 
Grace. 

Cousin Grace,” he said, in a gentle voice, “ I have 
had no opportunity of speaking a few words to you 
unheard by others for whose ears they are not intended. 
We are alone now, and the opportunity is one, I think, 
which ought not to be missed. Will you accompany 
me where we shall not meet the gaze of inquisitive 
eyes or be listened to by curious ears ? ” 

“ I will attend you with pleasure, Mr. Falcon.” 

It was with emotions of bewildered astonishment that 
she found herself conducted by him into the plantation 
of the black pines, 


64 


A woman’s revenge. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Major De Montrose had not been three minutes 
ill the presence of Mrs. Biirdell, before she detected the 
quality of his character ; and she saw that his eyes 
settled upon hers with an expression of admiration in 
them, and he saw that she returned his look, as if he 
was a stone statue. He had the tact to keep his eyes 
under control for the time being, and not to suffer them 
to wander in her direction — for a short time at least. 
Whatever might be his purpose, to make an enemy of 
her, or to create any disgust for him in her mind, 
formed no part of it. 

He simply glanced at Dottie Burdell, and saw that 
she was eyeing him and hardly with the interest or the 
favorable impression he had desired to create. Dur- 
ing the time Major De Montrose was conversing upon 
various subjects. Doctor Fulton watched her closely, 
and with misgivings. 

“ The shorter our stay here to-day the better,” he 
thought. “ If she can’t trace a man’s position by his 
features, and confirm her convictions out of his mouth, 
I am the president of the United States. How she 
looks under lier eyelashes at the major ! While he is 
vaporing to Mr. Burdell, she says, ‘ That man is not 
what he pretends to be,’ as clearly as if she shouted it 
with a speaking-trumpet.” 

While these thoughts were crossing his mind, Mrs. 
Burdell rose, and Dottie, following her, left the room. 

As soon as the door had closed, Mr. Burdell followed 
on tiptoe in the direction they had taken, opened the 


A woman’s revenge. 


65 


door with a stealthy hand, gazed out into the corridor, 
and listened to their retreating footsteps as they as- 
cended the stairs* Then closing the door once more, he 
returned to his guests. 

We may speak freely now,” he said. “First, let 
me thank you, iMajor De Montrose, for the friendly 
communications I have received from you, and to as- 
sure you of the strong impression I entertain of their 
importance.” 

“ If you take any interest, Mr. Burdell, in the sub- 
ject at all, they are of importance,” replied Major De 
Montrose. 

“ Clearly ; they come, too, from a source as unlooked- 
for as reliable,” continued Mr. Burdell. 

The nrajo-r bowed. 

“ I assure you. Major, ever since I have known how 
wrongly and unjustly my family have been dispossessed 
of their rights, their restoration to their proper place 
has been a cherished wish the very nearest to my heart. 
You spoke of some documents in your possession, 
which very seriously affect the whole question ; indeed, 
without which the thing cannot be brought to a sat- 
isfactory conclusion.” The nostrils of Doctor Fulton 
contracted and expanded. 

“ I have those documents,” returned the major. 

The doctor passed his thumb and fingers from either 
side of his jaw-bones to his chin. 

“Yes,” continued the major, “I have those docu- 
ments in my keeping, though not here.” 

“ Though not here,” muttered Doctor Fulton. 

“They are extremely valuable,” pursued the ma- 
jor, “and I therefore take very great care of them.” 

“ The very greatest possible care,” thought Doctor 
Fulton. 

5 


66 


A woman’s revenge. 


“ I keep them safely, only too safely,” added the 
major. 

“ Only too safely,” repeated the doctor to himself. 

“ Quite proper — very proper, indeed,” exclaimed 
Mr. Burdell. “ You have them at your banker’s no 
doubt?” 

“Well no,” reflected the disguised doctor, “not at 
his banker’s — certainly not at his banker’s.” 

“ To be candid with you, Mr. Burdell, I have no 
faith in the privacy of a compartment at one’s bank- 
er’s,” observed the major. 

“ No ?” ejaculated Mr. Burdell, in an inquiring tone. 

“ It is all very well to keep plate there, and such 
things ; but documents — no. They go to one's case 
for coupons, or they entrust clerks to visit them with 
the same object, and one is never safe,” remarked the 
major. 

“Possibly,” returned Mr. Burdell. “ There, is some 
force in that suggestion — of course. They are deposited 
with you solicitor, to be sure. How absurd I should 
not have remembered that your solicitor would be the 
man in whose safe custody they must necessarily be 
placed ! ” 

“Not necessarily,” thought Hook Flint, his twink- 
ling eyes flashing through his colored spectacles. 

The major smiled, though the very name of lawyer 
made him feel faint. 

“With such very important papers, Mr. Burdell,” 
he said, “ I trust nobody but myself.” 

“ He trusts nobody but himself,” gulped his com- 
panion in disguise. 

“I have them in a very exceedingly snug place,” 
cried the major, rubbing his hands. 

“ Very snug,” muttered the doctor, with a grin. 


A woman’s revenge. 67 

“ And can place my hand on them in one moment if I 
wish,” the major concluded. 

“With my permission,” thought Hook, “always with 
my permission.” 

However, one important point was determined. It 
was, that all claim to Falcon Manor and its vast do- 
mains should, for the present, be abandoned, and an en- 
tirely distinct course of action should be adopted. 

As they parted, Ross said, with earnestness : 

“ You are quite sure, Mr. Burdell, you are correct as 
to the name ? ” 

“ Oh, beyond a doubt ! ” he replied. “ Is it not one of 
my own ? ” 

“And the locality?” 

“ Well, yes. But that remains to be proved. You 
will ascertain that. Major ? ” 

“ Exactly. Good-bye, Mr. Burdell.” 

“ Good-night, my very good friends. You will not 
forget the appointment ? ” 

“We will be there,” ejaculated Doctor Fulton. 

“ And I, if I live ! ” exclaimed Mr. Burdell. 

“ Farewell I ” 

So they parted. 

****** 

“ We got on well to-day, Ross, my boy !” said Hook 
Flint, when they were in the cab again. 

“ Rather surprisingly well,” answered Ross. 

“ I fancy you ought to congratulate me upon my per- 
formance,” continued Hook. 

“I do congratulate you !” exclaimed Ross. “You 
surprised me.” 

“ Aha ! you’ll know my value better hereafter,” ob- 
served Hook, significantly. “That was a fine guess 
of mine about — ” here he whispered in Ross’s ear. 


68 


A woman’s eevenge. 


“ A guess ? ” echoed Ross. 

“ To be sure,” responded Hook. “ A mere guess, 
founded on the similarity of circumstances which sur- 
round these old families.” 

The conversation now turned on other points of their 
scheme, until they arrived at the dwelling of Hook 
Flint. 

As Ross inhaled the air of his apartment, he gave 
vent to an expletive. He was not charmed with its 
purity or order. 

“ To-morrow, thank my stars ! I part from this extract 
of a million old rags,” he muttered. “ I shall, at least, 
pitch my tent in sweeter quarters. But after that — 
ah ! after that ! ” 

He leaned his head upon his hand, and his elbow on 
the table, and was soon plunged in deep thought. A 
soft hand upon his shoulder roused him. He looked 
up, and smiling, said, in a whisper : 

“ Ah, Fan ! — my dear, dear little Fan ! ” 

She placed her finger on her lips. Then bending 
over him, she placed her mouth near his ear, her warm 
brea'th trembling on his cheek. 

“ Sleep not to-night ! ” she whispered. 

Another minute and she was gone. She glided be- 
hind him, and he could not tell how she disappeared, 
for his room door was still closed. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Jack Duke viewed the position in which he was 
placed by Mrs. Lings with a degree of nervous appre- 
hension perfectly excusable. The bravest man will 
always experience a quickening of the pulses of his 


A woman’s revenge. 


69 


heart when dangers are at hand, the proximity or the 
extent of which he is unable to measure. 

In one sense, therefore, he congratulated himself 
upon his present escape. But how long was he to con- 
tinue safe ? What if she were leading him where he 
could be murdered without a chance of resistance? 
He did not relish the reflection ; and it rendered the 
propriety of his proceeding doubtful, though certainly,' 
in the confined space he was in, he could do little if 
attacked. 

Suddenly Mrs. Lings ^topped. 

“ I know what is passing in your- mind,” she whisr 
pered. “ You doubt my truth to you. You think that 
because Jesse is my husband, I should willingly lure 
you to any spot, where you might perish by his or any 
other hand without resistance. You believe me to be 
treacherous. You are wrong ! If I did not intend to 
save you, why not let you be killed in your own room? 
There was enough went into that room to have made 
all your attempts to save yourself useless.” 

“ Was Jesse among them? ” whispered Jack. 

“ No,” she returned ; “ he happened to be out, seeing 
to the depositing of some goods which have just 
reached here from the coast, or it might not have hap- 
pened. Jim Hanks put them up to it. He told ’em 
you shot Jed, and they have gone into your room to 
seize and hang you. I got round this way just in time 
to get you out of your cage. I will save you, you shall 
see, though you doubt me.” 

“ Why do you take this interest in me ? ” he asked, 
hesitatingly. 

“ Still suspicious ! ” she responded, as if vexed by 
the question. She shifted her soft hand from his wrist 
to his palm, and pressed his fingers. “ Do not ask me 


70 


A woman's revenge. 


now,” she answered ; “ some other time. Believe only 
that I will serve and save 3^011. Say no more — the 
sound of a voice might put all the hounds on the scent.” 

She released his hand, went on, then paused and 
whispered : “ Here is a ladder to descend — follow me.” 
She went quickly down, and he followed carefully. 
Again a long dark passage, another descent, and then 
she caught hold of his hand. “ Remain here ; you are 
safe. Jesse will release you when he comes,” she 
whispered in his ear. She wrung his hand, then flung 
it from her. 

He listened ^or retreating footsteps, but could not 
catch them ; he called her name, as though he wished 
to sa}^ something to her — she answered not. He groped 
about the place. There were large casks filled with 
liquid piled on one another, with not much space left, 
and he felt quite certain now that he was alone again. 
Loose sawdust was plentiful beneath his feet, and the 
air was impregnated with a strong odor of brandy. 

“ How long, I wonder, am I to kick my heels in this 
contraband cave?” he muttered. “If Jesse Lings 
does not look sharp, I shall try to find a spile in one of 
these brandy casks, and pass my opinion upon the gen- 
uine cognac, which a well-cultivated sense of smell 
assures me every drop of it is. A very remarkable 
young woman Mrs. Nan Lings — deuced handsome. A 
skin as clear and shining as satin-wood, and just about 
the color ; eyes as black as coals, bright as lightning, 
and flash much the same way. What a Tartar she 
must be when provoked ! I fancy she is rather dis- 
posed to this graceless scamp ; if so, I shall be well off 
and ill off. No matter, I have got out of worse scrapes 
than ever she can draw me into. If I could but trans- 
port myself into the land of dreams — it would look 


A woman's revenge. 71 

well. There would be no white feather displayed in 
slumbering in this hole.” 

He stretched his arms out, and after one or two mis- 
haps, in which head and shins suffered, he discovered 
the desired haven and laid himself quietly and care- 
fully down. The fumes of the liquor soon threw him 
into a state of stupor, and he became, in a very brief 
space, comparatively senseless. 

He was aroused from his somnolent condition by the 
voice of Jesse Lings bawling in his ear. He opened 
his eyes and started up. . He was in a small neatly- 
furnished bedroom. The sun was shining brightly 
through the latticed panes of the window. 

“ How did I come here ? ” he asked, gazing wildly 
round him. 

“ Well, you had to be carried here — that’s all,” an- 
swered Jesse, laughing. “ I found you in the cellar, as 
sound as a log, and carried you here. You have plenty 
of pluck to go to sleep there.” 

Jack began to collect his thoughts. 

“ Aye,” he said, “ this is a precious establishment of 
yours, Mr. Lings, from which a man ” 

“Say no more about it, sir,” interposed Jesse. “My 
wife. Nan, has told me all. It wouldn’t have happened 
if I had been home. Let it go for what it is worth. 
You are all right, only a little frightened.” 

“ Frightened, Mr. Lings ! Reconsider that word, if 
you please,” interrupted Jack, sharply. 

“Well, sir, startled — put out like.” 

“Certainly, put out,” responded Jack. 

“ And you are none the worse. I have seen Jim 
Hanks, and had a talk with him. He’s very sorry, sir, 
for what has happened. He begs your pardon, and 


72 


A woman’s bevenge. 


lie’ll tell you as much as he knows about Burdell, and 
take you over to where he lives.” 

“ Ah ! that is news, indeed, Mr. Lings,” cried Jack, 
leaping to his feet. “ I will just give myself a wash, 
and be down-stairs with you in a few minutes.” 

“ All good again, Mr. Duke ? ” 

“ Oh, the best of friends, Mr. Lings ! ” answered 
Jack, with a peculiar laugh. 

Jesse Lings snapped his fingers, and laughed too, 
boisterously. He descended the stairs, with a hop, skip 
and jump, to report progress to Jim Hanks, who was 
waiting him below. 

Jack Duke soon followed. He was greeted by the 
tall, strongly-knitted ruffian, who had insulted him, 
who begged pardon for his rudeness, and hoped ifc would 
be forgotten. 

“ Oh,” responded Jack, quickly, “I am quite satis- 
fied, if you are.” 

“ A little more than satisfied, ” returned Hanks. 
“ Next time such a thing comes off, I hope you’ll drink 
your liquor neat; I had too much of your hot water.” 

“ It was hot,” observed Jack, with a chuckle. 

“ Hot? ” echoed Hank. “ My cheek is blistered like 
the cracklin’ o’ roast pork, and smarts as if the brine 
had been rubbed in.” 

Jack tossed him a half-dollar. 

“ You can bathe your cheeks in brandy if you like, 
while I eat my breakfast,” he said, as he caught sight 
of Nan Lings entering with a well-filled tray in her 
hands, the ham having an overpowering fragrance in his 
nostrils. 

Jim Hanks instantly availed himself of the funds 
thus placed in his possession, and called upon Mr. Lings 
to serve him with some brandy. 


A woman’s revenge. 


78 


Jack Duke expected that Nan Lings would be stiuck 
with his well-brushed hair and whiskers, now presented 
to her notice ; but she did not, to his surprise, look in 
his face. And when she had finished arra3dng the table, 
she left the room without a look or a word, beyond the 
cold "‘good-morning” with which she responded to the 
very friendly greeting which he had saluted her with. 

This was strange and vexing. Her face — calm, 
almost sad — divested of the fierce evil expression of the 
night before, was yet handsomer in liis eyes than ever. 
Strange that she should treat him thus ! for on his 
arrival at the house, he was what may be termed 
weather-warm ; his face red, his hair disordered, and he 
careless whether or not he gained a place in her good 
opinion ; yet she had been gracious of the first esca- 
pade, and even tender. Now that he was gracious and 
wanted to be tender, she was cold and reserved. 

“Woman — woman,” he muttered, “there is no under- 
standing your natures ! you retire when we advance, 
and advance when we retire. Very good, my Nan, I 
shall retire again — when it suits me that you should 
advance.” 

After his breakfast he devoted himself to Jim Hanks, 
to get all particulars which he considered of the very 
greatest importance. 

“ How far is it to Fox Hollow,” he inquired. 

“ About four miles and a half,” replied Hanks. 

“ I had better take my horse, if that is the case.” 

“You can if you like,” responded Hanks; “but the 
way we goes ain’t a very good road for a horse, unless 
he can take a stiff fence and a wide brook in good 
style.” 

“If he can, he won’t attempt either wdth Jack Duke 


74 


A woman's BE.VENGE. 


on his back. I’ll just slip on my coat and get my hat, 
and ril be with you.” 

And these garments were in the room above, and he 
remembered that he had left his gripsack unlocked. He 
ran up the stairs to secure the one and obtain the others. 
As he shot up the stairs he encountered Nan, who 
whispered, with startling rapidity:' 

“ Take your pistols with you ! ” 

Before he could reply or stay her, she was gone. 

“These vagabonds are playing the double game 
still ! ” he muttered. “ Never mind, I am a match for 
them. Bah! I’ve forgotten more than they will ever 
know.” 

With that self-commendation, Mr. Duke turned into 
his room, locked and put away his valise, placed his 
pistols ready for instant use, drew on his coat, descended 
the stairs, and gave directions to Mr. Lings to prepare 
for his dinner, the bill of fare for which he provided 
himself with. 

“You will be sure to come back?” exclaimed Lings, 
with an equivocal expression on his face, and a furtive 
glance at Hanks. 

“ Sure to come back, Mr. Lings I ” returned Jack, 
with emphasis. “ Do not fall into a mistake concern- 
ing me,” he added. “ It takes a great deal to put me 
in trouble, and not much to get me out of it I Good- 
bye, Lings. Lead on. Hanks. You are the guide, and 
you go first.” 

Off they went, Jesse Lings standing at the door to 
watch them cross the fields. Jack turned round, and 
at an upper window saw Nan Lings, who made a hur- 
ried sign to him which he did not comprehend. Now, 
to such a man as Jack Duke, it scarcelj^ mattered what 
the sign was, or that he did not comprehend its abso- 


A woman’s revenge. 


76 


lute meaning, It sufficed for him that she had made a 
sign, and, coupled with her brief exhortation respect- 
ing his weapons, it assured him that it was a warning 
sign, and that it bore reference to his companion. 

“ Her coldness and indifference this morning were 
assumed,” he muttered, to himself. “ There is some- 
thing at the back of that, and I must and I will find it 
out. As for this long-backed, raw-boned, knock-kneed 
moon -calf. I’ll be very summary in my dealings with 
him if he attempts any tricks with me ! ” 

They went on steadily. Hanks keeping well on in 
advance ; looking back, now and then, to urge Jack to 
keep up with him, which he did as it suited him ; for 
lie kept his eyes well open, and it appeared to him that 
the way grew wild, desolate and lonely, now descend- 
ing into hollows where pools of stagnant frozen water 
occupied a portion of the pathway — if such it could be 
called, where no beaten track existed — and now pass- 
ing over hills rugged and crested with tangled brush 
and stubble, through which they had to tear their way 
slowly. 

Jim Hanks hurried down into a deep dell, which con- 
tained deep woods of tall oaks and stunted struggling 
elms, self-sown in ages past, and now clustered in 
dreary-looking entanglement. Toward these woods 
Hanks made his way. 

Jack glanced right and left and before him. He felt 
for his pistol, and called on his guide to return. The 
man stopped. There was an expression on his face 
which so subtle a reader of human physiognomy as 
Jack quickly interpreted. He slid his hand into the 
half-opened breast of his coat, and in a tone of voice 
not be mistaken told Hanks to come back with him. 

With a rough growl, the man obeyed. 


76 


A woman’s eevenge. 


“ What now ? ” he said, with a gloomy knit of his 
shaggy brow. 

“Just this, I see a gipsy encampment yonder, and I 
do not choose to pass through it.” 

“ You ain’t afraid of a few harmless gipsies, be 
you ? ” 

“ Not a hundred of them if they were all like you,” 
returned Jack; “but I have my reasons for not pass- 
ing through their encampment — at least not now ; I 
may want to do so by-and-bye.” 

“ To fit them with bracelets for finding fowls in hen- 
roosts, pigs in strawyards, and ponies in pasture fields,” 
cried Hanks, insolently. 

Jack laughed grimly. 

“ You ought to be honest,” he said, “ to take me for 
a thief-taker. Bah ! ” he cried, grating his teeth, and 
speaking with intense vindictiveness. “ I hate them, 
hate them every man ! I would no more mind shooting 
him, if one was here now, than I will you, if you do 
not choose, instantly, some other path to the man Bur- 
dell’s cottage I ” 

Jack produced a pistol, and pointed it direct at 
Hanks’ head. 

“ Put that back ! ” he roared. “ Put that back ! I’ll 
take you all right.” 

“ Strike into another path at once, then ; and re- 
member, the slightest attempt to play me a trick, and 
I’ll drop you as surely as I would a rat.” 

Jim Hanks at once, with nimble steps, pursued a course 
widely to the right of the one he was taking, and every 
now and then looked over his shoulder to find the pis- 
tol yet in Jack's hand, and pointed in his direction. 
When the camp was out of sight, Jack drew up to 
him. 


A woman’s revenge. 


77 


“ What gipsies were those ? whift name ? ” 

“ The Lanes,” responded Jim. 

“ Is Swift Lane with them ? ” inquired Jack. 

‘‘Do you know him?” asked Jack, in surprise. 

“ I am asking you a question,” exclaimed Jack. “ I 
. don’t want you to put questions.” 

“ He is,” replied Jim. 

“ Enough,” ejaculated Jack. 

“Let me ask you a question, though,” said Jim. 
“ You ain’t a police officer, are you ? ” 

“ I am not. I tell you, I am their mortal foe, and 
they mine.” 

“ Then give us your hand,” cried Jim, with a cry of 
exultation. 

“No,” said Jack, “I don’t shake hands with 

every ” “ vagabond ” he was about to say ; he 

changed it for, “man I meet.” 

“ Oh, well, so as you don’t mean trap, I’m your 
friend. We’ll soon be with old Burdell now. But 
you must be keerful, mind you, or he’ll up with a 
blunderbuss at you in half a second,” returned Jim. 

“ Leave me to manage him ; — and mark me, if events 
turn out as I imagine, I will want your help — not to- 
day, but at another time. If you do the work I shall 
pay you well, you’ll be a man for life. Those who 
employ me will pay like the treasury.” 

“ It ain’t a hanging matter, is it ? ” 

“ Do I look such a fool to play at such a game ? ” 
inquired Jack. 

Hanks grinned. 

“ You look like an early bird, you do I ” he re- 
sponded, with a chuckling laugh. Then he, pointing 
into a small valley, where stood a lone cottage, said : 


78 


A woman’s revenge. 


“ This is Fox Hollow, and there’s old Burdell’s 
cottage.” 

Jack paused to gaze at it for a minute, and then 
took out of his pocket a small packet, and opening it, 
glanced over its contents. When he had finished he 
said abruptly : 

“ Lead on ! ” 

Jim Hanks struck down into the hollow. Jack 
keeping up wdth him as the cottage was reached, and 
opening the door entered abruptly, alone. 

By the fire was seated, as if in deep thought, a tall, 
gaunt, hard-featured man with grey hair. Near to him 
was a young girl with her arms caressingly twined 
around a pale delicate boy. His eyes and hair were 
dark, and the eyes seemed unnaturally large for his 
face, yet of lustrous brilliancy. 

As Jack’s eyes fell on the girl’s face, he started and 
muttered : 

“ Younger, but as like her as two peas.” 

The picture was for a moment preserved. His en- 
trance startled them and their positions were changed. 
They all rose up to greet the stranger, especially the 
elderly, grey-haired man. He advanced toward Jack 
Duke with the aspect of one who considered his pres- 
ence an intrusion. 

“ What do you want ? ” he asked, abruptly. 

“ Your name is Burdell ? ” 

“ It is. What then ? ” 

“ A descendant of the Falcons ? ” continued Jack. 

“ There are some interrogatories which are imper- 
tinences, unless they are supported by sound reasons,” 
returned the old man. “Have you such reasons?” he 
demanded. 


A woman’s revenge. 


79 


“If you are not a descendant of the Falcons, my 
errand is not to you,” returned Jack, laconically. 

“ But if I acknowledge so much ? ” observed the 
old man. 

“ Then I desire a few words with you.” 

“ Say on,” exclaimed the old man, drawing himself 
up with a proud air, “ I will listen.” 

“ I would like to speak in private with you,” said 
Jack. • 

“ What can you have to say to mej ” he asked, look- 
ing at him with a searching gaze. 

“ I am as anxious to reveal it, as you may be to 
hear it,” answered Jack ; “ but it must be said in your 
ear alone.” 

The old man gave an impatient laugh — there was no 
mirth in it. 

‘ Follow me,” he said. “ It is little you can have to 
say to me that I shall care to hear ; still I will extend 
to you the courtesy you ask.” 

The old man led the way by a winding wooden stair- 
case to the room above. Jack followed him, and as he 
entered, he closed the door behind him. 

“ Speak,” said the old man, “ we are alone.” 

He seated himself, and motioned to Jack to do the 
same. 

“ I am quite aware that I shall have to combat with 
prejudices long firmly persevered in,” continued Jack ; 
“ but the man who is just and sincere ” 

“ Come to your business at once without preface. 
My prejudices are nothing to you,” interrupted Burdell. 
“ Who has employed you, and why are you here ? ” 

Jack cleared his throat. 

“ Mr. Whitney Falcon Burdell ” 

Old Mr. Burdell rose up. 


80 


A woman’s revenge. 


“ I suspected as much,” he exclaimed, in‘a firm clear 
voice. “I do not want to be unnecessarily rude to 
you, but I must insist on your promptly obeying my 
orders. You are an agent employed in the affair, and 
therefore not to blame. For years I have held myself 
aloof from the advances, the importunities, and the 
iniquitous suggestions of that man ; I have submitted 
to sacrifices of no mean kind, to escape from his arts 
and sinister designs. Go back to him, tell* him I 
despise him, and will hold no intercourse of any kind 
with him or with any one from him, until the day shall 
come when the voice x>f justice and right shall ring in 
his ears a knell of death. Then I will meet him. Go, 
depart ! — not a word. You attempt to delay your stay 
one second and it will result only in an expulsion as 
offensive to you, as it will be painful but imperious to 
me. Go ! ” 

“One word,” said Jack, “before I quit you finally. 
It is essential that you consider well before you dis- 
miss me. My instructions are to impress upon you, 
that Whitney Burdell will not, in the event of your 
obstinately declining to entertain the proposition I am 
empowered to make, have aught whatever to do with 
you more. You may live where you please, certain 
that he will not endeavor to discover your abode, but 
you may be sure that he will sternly decline to see you, 
should you attempt to have an interview with him, and 
that he will return unopened whatever communication 
you at some future time may be compelled to forward 
to him. Briefly, refuse his present and last offer, and 
he will forget that you ever existed.” 

“ My only answer, is my unspeakable contempt for 
him, and whatever is connected with him. Our con- 
ference is ended.” 


A woman’s revenge. 


81 


He motioned to the door. Jack took up his hat, with 
an air of mortification. He opened the door and de- 
scended the stairs. 

As he entered the apartment beneath, the face of 
the young girl, who was yet tenderly caressing the 
pale boy, again caught his eye^ and he muttered some 
words to himself rapidly. Then he advanced to her, 
and said : 

“ Pardon what may appear an impertinent question, 
but is not intended as such — have you a sister ? ” 

Before the girl could answer, the old man seized 
him roughly by the shoulder, and thrust him toward 
the door. 

“ How dare you ask that question ? ” he cried, pas- 
sionatelv* “ Leave this house, or I will fling you out 
of the door ! ” 

Jack turned fiercely to him. 

“ You are an old man, and beneath your own roof,” 
he growled, “ else I would avenge the insult you have 
forced upon me, in a manner which you should have 
borne tokens of to your grave.” 

“ Begone ! ” almost howled old Burdell. “ Provoke 
me no further, or on your own head be the conse- 
quences^ ” 

Jack saw that the young girl bent upon him an 
appealing look as though asking him to leave without 
further altercation. He smiled at her, raised his hat 
to her and the boy, and then, with as milch calmness 
as he could assume, slowly sauntered out of the house. 

Rejoining Jim Hanks, who was at the gate, he 
directed him to conduct him back to Jesse Lings. 
On his way he marked silently, and with careful at- 
tention, prominent objects, that he might know thQ 
route again to traverse alone, 

6 


82 


A woman’s bevenge. 


“You seem to know the affairs of old Burdell 
pretty well,” he said to his companion, suddenly. 
“You can tell if the girl I saw there is his daugh- 
ter?” 

“No, I can’t,” said Jim. “Nobody knows any- 
thing about Burdell’s private affairs, unless he chooses 
to tell them — and he don’t choose.” 

“ Then you don’t know.” 

“ I don’t. I suppose that ” 

“ Ah, never mind — I can guess as well as you ; 
but I don’t want guesses, I require certainties. She 
has lived with him, as far as you know, some years.” 

“ Yes ; he brought her up, I believe, from a baby.” 

“ Speak of what you know.” 

“ Well, she’s been with him as long as I have known 
him, now some ten years.” 

“Here?” 

“ Here, sir.” 

“ What is her name? ” 

“ Flora.” 

“ And the boy ? ” 

“ Don’t know much about him. Both the gal and 
the old man are very fond of him, and very keerful 
about him.” 

“ What name do they give him? ” 

“Hafold.” 

“ Jim Hanks, I must have that boy.” 

“ You?” 

“Yes. We must get him away from the old man, 
and not let the grass grow under our feet before we do 
it.” 

“ DonT have nothing to do with that — I don’t.” 

“ Look you here, Jim ; I don’t take you for a fool.” 

. “Very good.” 


A woman’s revenge. 


83 


“Now, you know — or if you don’t know I’ll tell you 
— one Doctor Franklin said, ‘Get money; honestly if 
you can, but get money ! ’ 1 don't think that you are 
the man to close your hand when you see a heap of 
gold dollars mad to leap into it.” 

“Well, no ; not altogether.” 

“ So you are the man to get money, and I to give 
it — do you agree ? ” 

“ Well, yes, but what do you want to do with the 
boy?” 

“ No harm to him, be assured of that,” replied Jack, 
quickly. “ He is now living in a poor cottage. He 
will be taken to a mansion, and be waited upon by 
liveried servants. He will be delicately treated.” 

“ That sounds well. What have I for my work ? ” 

“ Five hundred dollars for your services, if you get 
him away without making any alarm, and place him 
safely in my custody.” 

“ I am y»ur man. What is to be done ? ” 

“ To-night, I will leave Jesse Lings’ at nightfall, 
and will be where you like to appoint at midnight.” 

“ Over there is an old oak-tree,” said Jim ; “ can 
you see it ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ HalLa-mile beyond Jesse Lings’ house on the main 
road, there’s a blind path that leads up to it. At 
twelve o’clock to-night I’ll be under the tree with the 
boy.” 

“ And I with the five hundred dollars.” 

“ Agreed ; it’s a bargain.” 

“ A bargain,” 


84 


A woman’s revenge. 


CHAPTER IX. 

When Milroy Falcon led Grace toward the planta- 
tion of black pines, she was filled with painful feelings 
of astonishment, he was conducting her to precincts 
fenced round with so much mystery. 

Her position at Falcon Manor, from its strangely 
anomalous character, was sufficiently perplexing to a 
mind like hers. The perplexity, it must be remem- 
bered, was not one of mere wonder, but it was allied 
to an anxious trouble respecting her real title to the 
part she was playing there. Often, when Ora con- 
versed with her in confidential familiarity, or Roderick 
addressed her with deferential attention, the thought 
“ How know you but that you are a child rescued from 
rags and wretchedness?” would ring through her 
brain, and she would feel a scorching blush rise up to 
her temples in very shame at the deception which, if 
the suggestion had any foundation in truth, she was 
then practicing. 

Now she felt that Milroy Falcon was about to ques- 
tion her upon her past life. How was she to answer 
him ? She abhorred the very notion of uttering a false 
story, yet she shrank from admitting that she had 
come to Falcon Manor as the only surviving member 
of one branch of the old family and an heiress, when 
she was, perhaps, the ^daughter of the hated Ross, and 
penniless as the poorest beggar that ever clamored for 
admission within the walls of the poorhouse. 

As she slowly accompanied Milroy Falcon, her brain 
was oppressed by crowding thoughts, all bearing on 
this point ; so much, indeed, was she distracted by them 


A woman’s revenge. 


85 


that it was not until the deepening gloom thickened 
around her that she aroused from her anxious rumina- 
tion, and found that she was walking between the tall 
sombre branches of the black pines. An intimidating 
awe oppressed her, as tliey plunged deeper into the re- 
cesses of this dark and dismal wood ; yet an eager and 
intense curiosity was aroused, and she would not have 
gone back for worlds. 

A silence as of death reigned around ; the song of 
the birds was no longer heard, nor the enlivening hum 
of the insects. The ground beneath was soft and 
damp, and a path there seemed none ; yet Milroy Fal- 
con threaded his way through the intricate passages 
formed by the tall, straight, dull-red pine columns 
without hesitation and with evident practised knowl- 
edge. He neither spoke nor paused until they abruptly 
came upon a small antique stone building, blackened 
by time and by the damp humid air which the sun’s 
warmth never reached. 

The exterior of this edifice was not unlike the ap- 
pearance of a small chapel, yet it had partly the char- 
acter of a cenotaph which had been erected to the 
memory of one who had died in some gloomy manner. 
The architecture was of the severe, undecorated. Gothic 
style. It was time-worn, moss-stained, crumbling to 
decay ; and in its situation most grim and desolate. 

As Grace’s eye fell upon it she instinctively shuddered, 
every nerve thrilled painfully ; hot with fear or appre- 
hension of evil to herself, but rather from an excited 
sense that some revelation, strange, important, but 
pertinent to her yet unfathomed history, would now be 
made to her. 

Before an iron-bound oaken door Milroy Falcon 
stopped, and turning to Grace, said : 


86 


A woman’s revenge. 


“You will not fear to trust yourself with me alone 
in a gloomy crypt?”* 

“With you, Mr. Falcon, I presume I may trust my- 
self in safety in any spot,” she answered, in firm tones. 
“Nevertheless, though not superior to certain supersti- 
tious influences, I am equal to any actual danger I 
might have to encounter.” 

He placed his hand upon one of the iron bands with 
which the door was faced, and forced it into a perpen- 
dicular position. Then pushing open the door, and 
beckoning Grace to follow, he entered. 

She followed him into the building, and he closed 
the door behind her. For an instant the darkness 
seemed impenetrable ; but presently Grace became con- 
scious of a pale blue light, which was admitted by a 
small aperture above. The rays fell upon a spot in the 
centre of the space. 

“Remain motionless for a moment,” he said. “Sum- 
mon your self-possession to your aid, and we will then 
proceed.” 

Grace cast her eyes around. Proceed where ? 

By degrees her sight adapted itself to the mere semi- 
darkness, and she detected where the ray of light 
rested a narrow circular opening ; a moment more and 
she could perceive that a flight of stone steps led to 
some place beneath where they stood. 

Mr. Falcon laid his cold hands on her. 

“ Are you ready ? ” he said. 

She was not without a feeling of dread, but she did 
not hold back, or by any hesitation of manner betray 
what her emotions really were. 

Milroy Falcon advanced to the opening and de- 
scended the steps slowly, carefully guiding Grace until 


A woman’s eevenge. 87 

the last step was reached : then he led her forward a 
few steps, and abruptly released her hand. 

With surprise she found herself in what appeared to 
be a very ancient crypt, lighted at its eastern end — 
from what source was not clear — by a stained-glass 
window of most brilliant colors, upon which was repre- 
sented with exquisite skill the figure of a young, fair, 
and beautiful girl, with flowing hair. The face was 
pale ; the eyes, large and blue, were fixed with pensive 
gaze upon the beholder ; the small lips were slightly 
apart, as though she were speaking; one hand was 
raised heavenward, the other pointing direct to those 
who looked upon it. The figure was dressed in flow- 
ing robes of delicate hue. Upon the bosom, near the 
heart, there appeared a ghastly wound ; and the light 
which illuminated the window, kept in motion by some 
unseen arrangement, gave to the blood depicted issu- 
ing from her side, the aspect of yet welling from its 
life-source. Above the head appeared the words in 
brilliant rich ruby characters : 

“ Remember thou that I am avenged ! 

This remarkable figure was represented as standing 
amid long and waving grass, spangled and sparkling 
with the golden buttercup and the white daisy. 

Near to her feet, beneath the shadow of the green 
grass, lay ready for a spring, a brilliant-eyed snake. 
Though represented motionless, its head was elevated, 
its mouth open, with its forked tongue out, and where 
its arrow point appeared to strike, the tall flowering 
weeds were blood-stained. 

In a wavering hand below, as above the figure, were 
flame-colored characters ; but they ran thus : 


“ Anguis in herha.'' 


88 


A woman’s eevenge. 


Underneath this singular memorial window there 
stood a square tomb, upon which rested the recumbent 
figure of a young girl. It was sculptured in marble, 
and represented the same young creature so exqui- 
sitely portrayed in the illuminated window ; there were 
the same flowing garments, the same sad, sad feat- 
ures. 

There was nothing else within the gloomy crypt, ex- 
cept that the bosses of the groined, arched roof, bore 
upon them the same face as that pained, grieved counte- 
nance, which gazed down from the stained casement, 
and the walls were hung with alternate strips of black 
and crimson cloth. 

Before the wondering eyes of Grace had absorbed 
all the objects in the mysterious scene, Mr. Falcon ad- 
vanced to the tomb, and kneeling upon a block of stone, 
bent his head devoutly in silent prayer. He remained 
for a minute, and then rising, returned slowly to 
where Grace was standing, entranced, gazing upon the 
pallid face which seemed to look down upon her wdth 
such piteous and appealing earnestness. 

“ Miss Montrose, you are surprised at what you be- 
hold!” 

“ Oppressed with wonder,” she replied, in a low 
tone. 

“ This is not an age for the marvelous,” he contin- 
ued ; “ yet, Grace, there are few great families which 
have not within the inner circle of their life some liv- 
ing record of the past, which to the world abroad 
would appear a mystery. We have our landmarks, and 
retain our traditions. Travel east and west, from the 
sea-bound south to the icy regions of the north, and 
you will find that the oldest families have some grim 
prophecy which, though in these days of unbelief they 


A woman's eevenge. 


89 


are laughed at as chimeras, nevertheless are as sternly 
and rigidly fulfilled as the foretold eclipse. An ances- 
tor has laid Falcon jNlanor under a bane of this kind, 
and the best and brightest of our race, since the hour 
in which he perpetrated his cruel and iniquitious deed, 
have been mercilessly stricken down in rigorous exact- 
ness with the condition it involves.” 

“ And what is this fatal curse ? ” inquired Grace, her 
questioning eyes still fastened on the transparent figure, 
with its weeping, ghastly wound. 

‘‘Look there and read, ‘ Anguis in^herha,^ ” 

“ A snake in the grass ! ” she repeated. 

“ Even so,” he ejaculated. “ The spell upon the Fal- 
cons is comprised in that metaphor. He who slew one 
so young and fair as she who now gazes upon us with 
an air of such acute anguish, was the first of our race 
who enacted the dishonorable and contemptible part 
thus typically portrayed.” 

“ And the girl — was she a Falcon ? ” 

“ A Montrose,” he replied, fixing his eyes upon her 
steadfastly. 

A strange gleam, almost unearthly, shot from them. 
Grace felt disturbed by it, yet she said nothing, but 
looked up once more at the painted face. 

Suddenly Mr. Falcon, who had followed the direction 
of her eyes, said to her : 

“ Know you not the face ? ” 

“No,” she returned. 

“ Are you sure ? ” 

“ I have a confused notion that I have somewhere 
seen it, yet I know it not.” 

“ Yet you have seen it many, many times.” 

“ I ? ” 

“ Even you.” 


90 


A WOMAN'S EEVENGE. 


“ I do not recollect where or when.” 

“ Yet you are a Montrose ! ” 

Grace felt her cheeks become the hue of crimson. 

“ Still, I am not reminded by that circumstance how 
to make clear my confused impression that it is not 
familiar to my eyes.” 

He settled his large, dark eyes upon her face. 

“ Listen to me,” he exclaimed. “ When Mildred 
Dupont, the favorite child of my father’s favorite sis- 
ter, my kind, ever, thoughtful, trusted cousin, and your 
— but you know your consanguinity too well for me to 
repeat it — when she told me of your sad bereavement, 
of your lone condition, and that she had sent for you 
to come to Falcon Manor, I conceived that you were 
changing your mausoleum for a graveyard, we were so 
dull here ; and I felt— I know^ not why or how — that 
to me your coming was rather an addition to its dull- 
ness, a something to increase my ineradicable sadness.” 

“ Ineradicable?” 

“Under certain conditions — but of that another 
time. Let me proceed by telling you that you came 
here upon a day inauspicious to our race, and then I felt 
that I had rather you would not come at all.” 

“ Mr. Falcon, why not have recalled the invitation ?” 

“Your pardon, Grace, you have no cause for offense. 
Mere relatives or friends— few they are — might have 
come and gone. Their absence would have been a 
matter of indifference to me — yours was not. I had 
not seen you yet here.” He pressed his clenched hand 
upon his breast. “Here the note of your advent was 
sounded from the hour that Mildred first mentioned 
your name ; I wondered much when I looked in amaze- 
ment upon your face.” 

“ My face, ^Ir. Falcon ? ” she echoed, in surprise. 


A woman's revenge. 


91 


“ Yes, Grace, your face — that face ! ” he almost 
shrieked, as he pointed to the sad countenance of the 
girl painted on the window. “ That face ! ” as his 
thin, long fingers turned to the marble features of the 
figure resting upon the tomb. “ And that — and that — 
and that ! ” he added, pointing to the bosses upon 
the ribs of the arched roof. “ That face, never ab- 
sent from my eyes — never — never ! ” 

He covered his own with his hands. 

Grace, with astonishment, turned her eyes upon the 
painted face. She saw the likeness now. 

“ Yet, I am dark, and she is so — oh, so very fair and 
beautiful I ” 

Milroy Falcon lifted up his face. 

“ The lineaments are the same,” he said. “ When I 
saw you first, it was as though you had risen up from 
your tomb and presented yourself at my tomb ; a 
spasm seemed to wring my heart. And upon the day 
— of all others in the year — the eventful day! You 
came, it was clear, by a decree of inevitable fate. It is 
for me to unfathom what your advent here portends ; 
it is for this I have brought you here to confer ; it is for 
this I have unfolded a secret, hidden to all other eyes 
but yours ” 

“And mine! ” exclaimed a voice, close to them. 

Grace felt the blood rush back to her heart. She 
did not fly ; she did not shriek ; she turned ashy pale, 
yet she stood firmly erect, like a figure carved in stone. 
Milroy Falcon recoiled several steps. Both he and 
Grace turned their eyes in the direction whence the 
sound came, and beheld within a few feet of them, 
standing with an air of cold dignity, Mildred Dupont. 

A silence unbroken by sound of any kind, followed 
this discovery. Grace was greatly surprised i for she 


9 ^ 


A woman’s eevenge. 


had not heard a footfall, nor even the rustle of a wo- 
man’s dress to denote Mildred’s approach. It was as 
though she had uprisen from the earth to confront 
them. 

Mr. Falcon seemed disconcerted by her presence. 
She had evidently some powerful influence over him ; a 
look, a word, reduced him to passive obedience — not 
that the influence was of a derogatory character, or the 
obedience unworthy his manliness; Mildred was careful 
not to impart to it a tone which would make him resent 
the power she assumed, or even feel that it was a power 
that she exercised — but Grace plainly saw that there 
was a secret control, springing from some hidden source ; 
that its nature was grave and mysterious ; and that 
while Mildred used her acquired power with deep- 
sighted skill, Milroy bent to it from motives which 
probably had some far mightier consideration than 
merely prudent discretion. 

She felt that her hand was taken and firmly grasped 
by Mildred Dupont, and she heard her cold calm voice 
say: 

“ This is no place for you, Grace ; we will return to 
the mansion. Milroy Falcon ” 

“ Her cousin, Mildred,” he said, in a husky voice* 

“ Your cousin be it, Grace,” continued Mildred, in 
the same even voice. “ Milroy has been premature in 
his revelations. You can scarcely be prepared for a 
scene so strange as this — could hardly anticipate an in- 
troduction to a subterranean mausoleum so strangely 
decorated, or to be invited to listen to histories so en- 
woven with exaggerated superstition — and you had 
need of all your strong sense and clear intelligence to 
escape being mystified and awe-stricken without a true 


A woman’s revenge. 93 

object, and therefore without justice, and scarcely with- 
out cruelty ! ” 

“ Mildred, you are severe in your imputations,” cried 
Milroy, hastily. “You overlook ” 

“ Nothing, Milroy. Especially do I remember that 
there are babblers and tattlers around Falcon Manor ; 
that the plantation of the black pines is not so freely 
visited but that the circumstance of a young girl hav- 
ing been seen to enter it alone with you — with you, 
Milroy Falcon, you will reflect — will afford subject for 
the gossiping censorious for miles around.” 

“ Who would dare to breathe an insinuation ?” 

“ Not in your hearing, perhaps, Milroy, but people 
dare and do whisper slanders when the slandered are 
not by.” 

“ Yet we were not seen to enter here together ; there 
were none to observe the path we took.” 

“I saw you, to my amazement; Ora — her brother — 
I know not who else. The world is not very charitable, 
Milroy, and ” 

“Again, Mildred, your imputations become offen- 
sive.” 

“ I regret it, Milroy, but it is necessary that I should 
be truthful in this matter. I repeat, you committed an 
error in bringing here one who innocently may find 
herself the subject of conversation, scarcely of a desir- 
able kind, to the whole county ; and who, if it were not 
so, has no claim to be here.” 

“No claim ! Look at her face, Mildred, and then 
look there!” He pointed to the stained window. 
“ See you not the extraordinary resemblance? Look 
well at the features of Grace again, and tell me if they 
are not the counterpart of ” 

“ Hush ! beware ' Milroy Falcon, remember what you 


94 


A woman’s revenge. 


would say. You are wholly mistaken in the impres- 
sion you have formed. You are misled by a fancied 
resemblance. Grace has no claim to tlie ancestry your 
overheated imagination has assigned her. There runs 
not in her veins the life-stream which can claim di- 
rect descent from her whose blood is there depicted 
as overflowing — in whose memory this miserable and 
fatal pageant has been constructed. Do not prolong 
this discussion — here, at least. Let this misapprehen- 
sion rest here where it does. Grace has unintention- 
ally been led into a part of what appears to be a mys- 
terious secret of an old aristocratic family. She will 
swear to keep it concealed — will you not, Grace? ” 

“No!” 

“No.r why?” 

“ I have seen and heard too much, or not enough. 
I am no idle, foolish talker, nor do I possess the weak- 
ness of talebearing; but I do not know how far I 
may be really interested in the imperfect revelation 
I have heard, or the singular representation I behold. 
I reserve to myself the right of remaining silent or 
speaking respecting what has here passed, as events 
may demand.” 

“I can answer for her discretion. We will forget 
what has happened, for there will not be — there cannot 
be — an occasion arise which will call upon her to re- 
veal what has been entrusted to her under the misappre- 
hension that she is what she seems.” 

Grace started as though her heart had been pierced 
with a barb. She felt her throat swell to suffocation. 
How keenly she felt her position — how deeply the allu- 
sion to it ! She detected in an instant that Mildred 
had power over her too, and knew how to use it with 
equal skill to that she exercised over Milroy Falcon. 


A woman's revenge. 95 

“Come, Grace, let us go. You have been here too 
long. You should not have come here.” 

She took the reluctant hand of Grace, and led her 
toward the winding stairs ; while Milroy Falcon, 
casting for an instant a fixed look on Grace, turned 
from her with an aspect of mournful abstraction. 
He slowly advanced to the tomb, and bowed his head 
over it in an attitude of sorrowing thought. 

In the meanwhile, Mildred, in silence, conducted 
Grace from the gloomy building.' Once more she 
found herself in the depths of the black woods, the 
dark tree-tops shutting out the blue sky and the 
white fleecy clouds, and only sufficient light penetrating 
the high overhanging boughs to make the place around 
look drear, dismal, and provocative of superstitious 
fancies. 

Mildred pursued her way through the tree-columned 
aisles, as much mistress of the route as Milroy Falcon 
had shown himself to be. She moved at a quick pace, 
crushing the rank weeds into the soft earth beneath 
her firm tread, and pausing not, though Grace soon 
knew by her short breathing that they were ascend- 
ing. 

Winding through the intricate perplexities of the 
plantation, they reached a spot darker and gloomier 
than any they had yet traversed. 

Here Mildred paused, and leaned against a tree, 
apparently exhausted by her exertions. Grace was 
glad of the rest, for she, too, felt fatigued by what she 
had undergone. Still there was so much of marvel in 
the events she had shared in that morning, that bod- 
ily weakness was quite controlled by the strain on her 
mental faculties. 

Mildred Dupont did not break the silence ; but 


96 


A woman’s kevenge. 


having recovered her breath, slie beckoned to Grace 
to follow her, and dived into an entangled grove, the 
thin stems of pine shooting up being so close to- 
gether as to scarce leave room to pass. 

Darker and blacker the way grew, for they passed 
beneath the overarching boughs of dark, ivy-covered 
laurel, trained to form a roof all but impenetrable to 
light ; and after pursuing its windings a short distance, 
an abrupt turn brought them into the broad glare of 
daylight. 

So dazzling was the change that Grace uttered a 
cry of pain, and placed her hands before her eyes. 
Mildred put her arm around her waist, and impelled 
her forward, stopping only as Grace found herself 
able to distinguish the objects around her. 

They stood upon the centre of a high hill, which rose 
above the tops of the black pines, and far higher than 
the centre tower of Falcon Manor. 

“Be seated, Grace. It was on this spot the founder 
of Falcon Manor selected the site of his home, which 
his descendants have held intact ever since. Here 
he stood and conceived the grand seat of his home. 
With this spot on which we stand, many of the most 
important traditions of our house are identified. I 
have chosen it in order that I may explain to you 
more clearly than I have yet done the relation in 
which you and I stand to each other; to give you a 
glimmer of what may be looming in the future, and 
to prepare you for the position you will henceforth 
occupy ; or display most clearly the alternative which 
follows obstinate noncompliance with my views.” 

The words of Mildred, uttered in clear tones, thrilled 
the nerves of Grace, and with a strange feeling of awe 
she sat down to listen, her eyes fastened upon the 


A WOMAN S REVENGE. 


97 


plantation of black pines, as thongli she each moment 
expected to hear rise from them the wild unearthly 
cry which had on the eve of the new year, so mys- 
tified and bewildered her. 


CHAPTER X. 

Jack Duke, upon parting with Jim Hanks, directed 
his steps toward Jesse Lings’ house.' He seemed 
wrapped in deep contemplation, and appeared to be 
making his way across the fields to Jesse’s house rather 
by instinct than from attention he was paying to the 
route he was following. 

“ I don’t feel satisfied with the situation,” he mut- 
tered. “ My very keen friend from the East gave me 
a pretty close description of crafty Jesse Lings, the 
risks I should run, and the way to deal with him and 
them. They have not turned out as I shaped them, 
a circumstance which has partly arisen from my own ^ 
carelessness of precaution. What a full-grown jack- 
ass a man must be who, being at the entrance of a 
hornet’s nest, stirs it up without reflecting whether he 
will be let off unstung ! Yet that is just what I did. 
Cheek by jowl with some connection of the Lanes, I 
must even' in wanton boastfulness let slip that it was 
I who put a bullet through the head of Jpd Lane ; 
in consequence of which I obtain occupation for the 
whole evening and night, and raise a suspicion I will 
find it infernally hard to put down. Again, I have 
muddled this interview with old Burdell. My object 
was to draw him, not as if he was a badger, but as a 
surly dog would be by tempting bait ; instead of which 
I must blurt out Whitney Falcon Burdell’s name, up* 

7 


98 


A woman’s eevenge. 


set the scheme, and get all but kicked out of his cot- 
tage for my want of skill, and I have employed this 
Jim Hanks ; I have let out my object to him before 
I am at all -assured that his cupidity will get the better 
of his loyalty to his tribe. Gold makes a good skin- 
plaster, but I have hardly given him enough to heal 
the sore of being drubbed in the presence of a young 
and pretty woman, who it is very certain he does not 
regard with indifference. What if to-night he meets 
me with a score of fellows of his fraternity, and after 
well mauling me, strings me up to a tree by way of 
summary retaliation? Tlie contingency is by no 
means remote. I don’t think that I should be alto- 
gether an infant of fatuity if I were, on reaching the 
residence of Mr. Lings, to call for my bill and with- 
out waiting for my dinner, unequivocally make my 
way back to New York, leaving to my friend, the 
‘ Star of the East,’ all the glory of his precious enter- 
prise. Ha ! but then he would claim all the reward, 
the very thing I have decided on doing. No , Mr. 
Whitney Burdell will pay well, and so will — Hallo ! 
what is the matter at Mr. Lings’ establishment ? There 
is a swarm of gipsies around his hive.” 

Jack Duke crouched beneath a laurel bush, and then 
crawled from one bush to another until he had drawn 
near enough to the house to be able to see the faces of 
a mob of some twenty or thirty men straggling round 
the door. 

“ Gipsies, by the Genius of Plunder ! There stands 
hulking Swift Lane ! Fortunate cherub that I am to 
be here ! That villain has sworn to show how nimbly I 
can dance upon the unsubstantial air, when I afford 
him the opportunity. What if he knows I am a guest 
of Jesse Lings, and with his brothers in petty larceny, 


A wojman’s revenge. 


99 


now awaits my return to demonstrate to the very 
quintessence of proof that I, aided only by a single 
string, can rival the dainty Ariel of Shakespeare, and 
dance i’ th’ air ? I am convinced of this, that inten- 
tionally I shall be no party to such performances ; and 
here I remain until that band of primitive socialists 
retire, or it grows dark enough for me to slip away un- 
perceived.” 

Jack watched all that was going pn, and drew his 
conclusions from what he observed. 

There were women mingled with the men, and there 
was evidently some excitement among the whole party — 
but how originated? He had not long to wait; the 
whole party left the house, and made direct for the 
spot where he was lying hidden. 

.To rise up and make his way across the open fields 
would be only to give himself into their hands. 

He distinctly heard the irregular beat of their feet as 
they drew nearer to him, but he dared not look out for 
fear that he would be instantly detected by eyes that 
rarely slumbered when treading such ground. As they 
probably were in search of a foe, he only and devoutly 
hoped they had no dog with them. If they had, the 
brute would be sure to run snuffing among the bushes, 
to come across him, when he would give the gipsies the 
scent to a certaint}^ 

At the very moment his anxiet}^ rose to the highest 
point of intensity the foot-tramp began to grow fainter, 
and after a short time ceased altogether. The gipsies 
had diverged and struck away to the left to where 
their encampment stood. 

Cautiously raising his head, he found this to be the 
fact ; and, as soon as he could do so with safety, he left 


100 


A woman’s eevenge. 


his lurking-place, and crawled from bush to bush until 
he was a short distance from the house. 

He saw then that the door stood open, and with a 
sudden bound he sprang over the open space, darted 
into the house, and ran into the arms of Nan Lings. 
She uttered a cry of surprise, as he flung himself into 
a chair. 

She regarded him attentively for a minute, and then 
raising her finger left the room. 

Presently she returned, and fixing her dark brilliant 
eyes upon his flushed face, slowly folded her arms. 
“ What ! ” she exclaimed with a curling lip, “ has the 

rabbit hunted the hound ? ” 

% 

“ Look ye, Mrs. Lings, a stag at bay don’t stand 
much chance with a pack of hounds. Give him fair play 
and he can give a good account of himself ; but set a 
lot of hungry devils upon him, and how is he to defend 
himself with success ? Now, I don’t mind tackling 
four or five, but two dozen I decidedly object to. I 
don’t approve of your thinking I have run like a cur 
in fear of those from whom I have fled ; I would have 
you to believe that I have objects of great importance 
to accomplish, and I have no intention to risk their 
success, by a lack of discretion, arising out of foolhard- 
iness. I fear no man living, my beauty, nor even 
strong odds, but I must confess that I give in to twenty 
to one.” 

“ You were bold enough, in truth, to Hanks, and he 
is no chicken/’ 

“ Bold to all men, and not easily defeated ; but by 
beauty readily conquered.”" 

“ Beauty ! ” 

“ Yes, such as yours f” 

“ Do you think me handsome ? ” 


A woman’s eevenge. 


101 


“ Handsome as Cleopatra.” 

“ Who is she ? ” 

“ Who was she, you should say ! She was an Egyp- 
tian queen, or something of that sort, who reigned about 
two thousand years ago, or thereabouts. She was 
probably one of your ancestors, and beautiful enough 
to make a man fling away the world for her.” 

“ The world ! — how could he do that ? ” 

“ Well — that is — you see — it is too long to explain 
now, but he did do it.” 

Have you seen her picture ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Am I like her ? ” 

“You are better looking than her picture.” 

“ You are treating me like some fool of a young 
lady.” 

“ By no means ; I say, in my eyes you are better look- 
ing. You are not bound to believe me if you don’t 
like.!’ 

“I should like to believe you; I have often been 
told of my good looks, but then only by rough, igno- 
rant fellows, such as Hanks. I believe you if you 
mean it.” 

Jack placed his hand upon his heart as a proof. 

Her glittering eyes were fastened upon his all the 
while, with a degree of earnestness with which he could 
not fail to be struck. 

“ I believe you now,” she said ; and after a moment’s 
thought she added : “I suppose, if you really do think 
me handsome, you could in time like me ? ” 

“Where is Jesse Lings?” asked Jack, with a quick 
glance into the bar-room. 

“ He has gone down the road, and won’t be here for 
half an hour.” 


102 


A woman's revenge. 


“ You are sure ? " 

“Sure!” 

“ Now let me tell you, beauty and tenderness ought 
to go hand in hand,” exclaimed Jack, drawing up close 
to her, and laying his hand upon hers. “ When I made 
my appearance here last night, I was very much struck 
by your expressively handsome face, but I was no less 
affected by the fierceness with which you regarded me 
and the evident readiness with which you seemed dis- 
posed to see me sent to the land of the shadows ” 

“ Ah, but then ” 

“ Wait — let me finish. Now I look in your face, and 
my heart leaps into a liking for you ; but then, it must 
always be turned toward me with an expression as free 
from ferocity as it is now.” 

“ It shall be, I swear 1 ” 

“ Then I will like you with all my heart ; and in 
proof of a fair commencement of my liking you, wear 
this for my sake.” 

He produced, as he spoke, a small locket handsomely 
chased. 

She took it from his hands, and looked at it with 
admiring eyes ; then turning them upon his, she said, in 
full tones : 

“ It shall rest where no man’s gift was ever before 
placed — next to my heart.” 

He pressed her hand, and said : 

“ Now, Mrs. Lings ” 

“ Call me Nan, that is my name.” 

“ A very pretty one too ; but Mr. Lings ” 

“Is as jealous as a tiger. He would murder you if 
he knew even of 3?'our gift to me ; but call me Nan 
when we are alone.” 


A woman’s kevenge. 103 

“Well then, Nan, I believe that you are well dis- 
posed to serve me truly and frankly.” 

“ Have I not given you my hand on it. When did 
you ever know one of my race to do that and play 
false afterwards ? ” 

“ I put strong faith in you, and will continue to do 
so until I have the strongest proofs that you have be- 
trayed me, and broken your sworn word.” 

“ Betray you ! Oh, you do not know me ! Time 
will show.” 

“ It will,” responded Jack. 

He then proceeded artfully to question her respect- 
ing the presence of the men at the house a short time 
back, and the cause of the excitement they had exhib- 
ited. 

“Hanks was at the bottom of that,” she. replied. 
“ He went to the tents last night, after you had flung^ 
him beneath the elm, and returned with some of the‘ 
men to kill you in your bed. I saved you from them.” 

“You did. Did Jesse know beforehand of their 
visit?” asked Jack. 

“ No, he got them away by agreeing to a plan.” 

“ What plan ? ” asked Jack, quickly. 

“ One of which I tried to warn you this morning.” 

“ When you were so cool and distant to me ? ” he ex- 
claimed. 

“ I was at the time under the threat of being mur- 
dered if I spoke or even looked at you,” she replied. 

“ Be kind enough to give me. the details of the plot,” 
he said. 

“ That is soon done,” she returned. “ Hanks, on the 
pretence of leading you to old Mr. Burdell’s, was to 
guide you among the tents. You would have been 
there seized. If you had been proved to be the man 


104 


A woman’s bevenge. 


who shot my brother Jed, you would have been there 
and then strung up to a tree. If you had been, as 
Jesse suspected you to be, a thief catcher, they would 
have cut your throat.” 

“What an agreeable alternative! How unfortunate 
that I should happen to be neither .the man w^ho shot 
Jed Lane, nor the thief catcherc The first I might 
have easily been if he had tried to rob and murder me; 
the second I could never be, for I have the most whole- 
some horror of the officious scoundrels. The name of 
one makes the very joints in my backbone crack.” 

“ I am glad to hear this,” exclaimed Nan Lings, with 
an emotion scarcely less joyful than Hanks displayed. 

“ I apprehend that Mr. Lings scarcely expected me 
back here to dine,” observed Jack, with a sneer. 

“ Oh, no, 'he has gone down to some horse dealer in 
the hollow to see if he cannot dispose of your horse. 
If he is able to sell it he will bring the buyer back 
with him.” 

“This settlement of myself and my affairs is too 
touching,” replied Jack, between his teeth. “I am 
afraid I can only repay it by mounting m}^ nag, and de- 
parting before he returns.” 

“ I am sure that will be the best step for you to take. 
You must be very quick or you will be too late.” 

“ As nimble as a vaulter will I be, but one word ; 
Hanks — can I trust him ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Yet he is one of your race and he gave me his hand 
upon a compact.” 

“ Did he so ? you may trust him as far as your com- 
pact goes, but no further.” 

“ Enough, will you see to my gripsack ? I will bring 
my horse round to the door myself.” 


A woman’s revenge. 


105 


“ You will remember that what I have told you about 
Jesse is in confidence. You will never let him know, 
or my life will answer for it.” 

“ Be under no fear. I must employ-him, and there- 
fore will be civil to him ; but I am well-armed against 
him now. He might have deceived me had you not 
spoken — now I defy him.” 

He took her hand as he concluded and pressed it to 
his lips, and then rapidly gave utterance to burniog 
words, expressive of the strong sense he entertained of 
the services she had rendered him ; and though out- 
wardly he might be compelled by circumstances to pay 
court to others of her sex, henceforth she would be the 
only woman who really possessed his heart. 

Jack made his way. to the stable, and quickly saddled 
his horse. He lost no time, for he anticipated the 
return of Jesse Lings, and just now he did not desire 
to look him in the face. And when he led the cob 
round to the front entrance, he found Nan ready with 
his gripsack. 

He leaped into the saddle, and placing his leather case 
before him, handed her some money, for as he said, 
the entertainment the house afforded him. 

“ Tell Lings that I shall probably be back here in a 
few days ; and intimate to him that it will be to his 
interest to act on the square with me, and it will be to 
his injury to play tricks with me.” 

“I will tell — you will be back here again soon ? ” 

I will,” he said. 

“ I know it,” she ejaculated. 

For a moment she was silent, but suddenly she raised 
her hand, and in a low tone said, 

“ From this hour to our last your fate and mine com- 
mingle ; for weal or woe, for prosperity or wretched- 


106 


A woman’s eevenge. 


ness, for joy or despair, our destinies are inseparably 
interwoven.” 

A creeping sensation of apprehension stole over Jack 
Duke as the words fell upon his ears and he witnessed 
her excitement, but he would not let her see how it 
affected him. He laughed and said: 

“ Be it so ; the happier fellow I, to have one so young 
and handsome clinging to me like a vine about my 
heart.” 

He laughed, kissed his hand to her, plunged spurs 
sharply into his horse's flanks, and galloped away. 

About a mile away he met Jesse Lings and a rough 
looking fellow, dressed in the height of fashion, horse 
jockey’s effect, hurrying on toward Lings’ home. When 
Jack reined in his cob to speak to him, it is doubtful if 
man ever looked more disconcerted than Jesse did. 

Jack took no notice of his astonishment, but spoke 
to him frankly, informed him that an unexpected inci- 
dent had suddenly called him away, but that he would 
return, as he should have need of his future services, 
and that he would amply remunerate him. He, how’* 
ever, as he concluded, beckoned Lings to one side, and 
whispered in his ear. 

Lings started and caught the bridle in his hands. 

“ Why did you not mention his name at first? Come 
back, everything shall be right now.” 

“No, I will keep on now, but I don’t know how soon 
I may need 3^our help and services ; and I have thought 
it best — as I have, not from what has happened, had the 
strongest faith in your good intentions toward me — to 
mention that name in order to guard against future 
misunderstandings. You won’t mistake me any more. 
My bill at your house is paid.” 

Again the spurs were dug into the sides of the cob, 


A woman’s kevenge. 


107 


who snorted and plunged forward, and Mr. Lings and 
the mystified customer for the cob were left behind. 

As Jack continued his ride he looked out for the 
place for the midnight rendezvous, and saw in the dis- 
tance the giant tree standing. He had forgotten to 
notice the blind path of which Hanks had spoken, but 
unless the night proved very dark, which it did not 
promise to be, he believed he should have no difficulty 
in finding it. 

His faith in Hanks was slight, yet he could not be- 
lieve that he would resist the prospect of obtaining five 
hundred dollars so very easily. 

“ As for foul play, well, I am playing for high stakes, 
and I must run the risk. A steady hand with a hair 
trigger is strong defence. With one dead man before 
tlieir eyes, men hesitate to rush to make the next. If 
Hanks does turn treacherous I will not miss him ; he 
shall have all the lead out of one barrel -on that I am 
determined.’* 

He lingered in the wood that skirted one side of 
the road until near the hour for his rendezvous with 
Hanks, muttering to himself how cold and hungry he 
was. He had not eaten anything since morning. 

By dint of* a slow and, careful examination, he dis- 
covered the blind path that led to the oak-tree ; and as 
he was uncertain of the ground he had to traverse, he 
dismounted and led his horse. At a short distance 
from the place of meeting he saw a clump of trees, to 
which he directed his steps. He quickly picked out a 
place where he could remain unseen, and yet observe 
what might be going on in the neighborhood of the 
oak-tree. 

The hour of midnight approached without any dark 
figure stealing beneath the shadows of the trees greet- 


108 


A woman’s kevenge. 


ing his watchful eye, aud he began to entertain strong 
notions that his fellow conspirator would act up to his 
engagement. 

“ And then let me but get the child, Harold Burdell, 
safely into my keeping. By Jove ! what terms I will 
exact ! How I will set the two interested parties 
bidding ” 

At this moment the wdnd bore to his ears, though 
faintly, the hour of midnight tolled by some distant 
church clock. He listened breathlessly ; and when it 
had ceased everything around remained as silent and 
still as before. 

“Not here,” he muttered; “ he has not succeeded. 
Still he ought to have been — Ha ! ’* 

A hand was laid upon the bridle of his horse by a 
man who seemed to rise out of the ground. Jack 
clapped his hand upon his pistol, and pointed it at the 
man’s head. 

“ Who are you ? ” he said. 

The man uttered a guttural laugh. 

“ Hanks,” he answered, in a low tone ; and added : 
“ Don’t you know me again ? ” 

“ Where’s the boy ? ” asked Jack, quickly. 

“ Where’s the money ? ” 

“ Where you can place your hand on it, the moment 
you produce the boy.” 

“ You have got it with you, of course.” 

“ Mr. Hanks, I was not born yesterday or the day 
before ; I mean to be fair and square with you ; I will 
keep my word faithfully, and do all I undertake. You 
have shaken hands in true faith with me, and I expect 
you not to break a gipsy’s word by palm to palm ; but 
if you play me falsely I’ll shoot you through the head 


A woman’s eevenge. 


109 


though I swing from the branch of a tall tree the next 
instant.” 

“ Enough said, mister, I have shaken hands with you 
on your agreement. Wait a moment, and I will bring 
the boy to^^ou.” 

“ And I will be ready with the money.” 

Hanks disappeared ; and Jack’s heart beat with 
excitement as the consummation of his hopes drew near. 
He plunged his hand into a secret pocket in his over- 
coat and brought forth a roll of bills. 

Hanks soon reappeared, bearing in his arms a large 
burden, muffled in a rough, heavy horse-blanket. 

“Here he is,” he exclaimed, in a low tone. 

“ Place him before me, and let me see his face,” 
returned Jack. “ Lift him up — so.” 

Hanks did as he was told, and then Jack removed 
the horse-blanket from the boy’s head. He cast his 
eyes eagerly upon the boy’s wild, pale, frightened face, 
and was satisfied that he really had in his possession 
the much coveted prize. 

The boy, as soon as he could breathe, uttered a 
shrill cry, but Jack placed his hand over his mouth. 

“ Harold Burdell,” he said, “ don’t be afraid, you are 
with a friend who will be kind to you. Don’t be 
alarmed, my boy ; you will be happier and safer than 
you ever have been.” 

But the boy struggled, and would not be quieted, 
and Jack was compelled to stifle his cries by recovering 
him with the, blanket. 

He handed the money to Hanks. 

“ There is your money,” he said. 

“ What, in this little roll ? ” cried Hanks. 

“ Open it and count it,” said Jack, grating his teeth ; 


110 


A woman’s kevenge. 


for the boy writhed and struggled so he could scarce 
hold him. 

Hanks did as he was told, and with a chuckle of in- 
tense gratification he exclaimed : 

“ All right, mister ; we’ve both done the sight thing 
by each other. Good-night.” 

He was about to disappear, but Jack stopped him. 

“ I want to go to the depot, how can I avoid passing 
the Lings house ? ” 

“ Look here,” replied Hanks ; “ follow this piece of 
open, it will lead to a narrow road tlirough the bushes; 
then you gets into the open again, and so on to the 
road turn to the left.” 

‘‘ Good night,” cried Jack ; and striking his spurs 
into the cob, dashed along the path pointed out to him, 
and plunged into the dark bushes at what seemed a 
reckless gallop, holding close the yet struggling boy, 
Harold Burdell. 


CHAPTER XL 

Mildred Dupont, before she commenced the reve- 
lations she had promised, gazed around her with a proud 
air, as though the magnificent landscape her eyes took 
in at a glance, acknowledged her as its mistress. 

There was a remarkable air of triumphant grandeur 
in her survey ; yet it was but for a moment — it faded as 
her. glance fell upon Falcon Manor ; it changed into a 
sombre expression as her eyes glided upon the black 
pines, and there rested. . 

Mildred cleared her voice after some reflection, and 
commenced : 

“ Your nature, Grace — and by that I mean the com- 


A woman’s revenge. 


Ill 


position of your character — is not what I had calcu- 
lated it would prove to be. The moulding to which it 
has been subjected has been attended with a result 
wholly opposite to that intended. You have been 
driven — you should have been led. Had the latter 
course been adopted you would have been ready to 
yield, obedience would have been to you a virtue. 
Now a proposition is by you at first encountered in a 
spirit 01 antagonism and wrestled with until you have 
convinced yourself that it may be yielded by you with- 
out prejudice to your present situation or your future 
condition ; then you give way.” 

‘‘ Is not that a prudent course ? ” 

“In your own interests, yes,” returned Mildred. 
“ But, in our relations with the world, there are other 
interests we must consult as well as our own. I would 
not have you lose sight of yourself, but I would not 
have you shut out all others, retaining only yourself in 
your field of view. I have told you that you are my 
secret ; you are, but I forbid you to speculate in what 
manner this, is to be explained. Wait patiently, until I 
tell you the secret at the fitting hour. You can lose 
nothing by it, your gain will be brilliant.” 

“ But my parents ! ” 

“ Have patience, girl. In the eyes of the world you 
are a Montrose and an heiress.” 

“ An orphan ? ” said Grace, quickly. 

“In the eyes of the world! You will continue to 
reside with me, the world will learn, because in your 
condition I am your natural guardian,” she continued. 
“ Y ou will maintain your position and be supplied with 
money ” 

“ By whom ? ” 

“ By me will the means of supporting your apparent 


112 


A woman’s eevenge. 


rank be furnished, and until you find one with a better 
right, or until your pride has true reason to revolt at 
accepting them, make no difficulty in receiving them. 
As a matter of course, I foresee that I shall have trouble 
with you ; that there will be a struggle between m}" 
imperative acts — with which you cannot avoid being 
identified — and your self-will ; but be it my task to 
settle that difficulty. I must control, or we must sepa- 
rate. Has it occurred to you to suggest to yourself a 
consequence of such separation ? ” 

‘‘No.” 

“ Let me inform you , you would have to return to 
Ross.” 

“ Never ! ” 

“ Mark me, Grace, the alternative of leaving me is 
to return to the companionship of Oscar 'Ross, from 
which no power but mine can deliver you ! ” ’ 

“ Not the law of the land ? ” 

“ Not the law.” 

“ He has no claim on me.” 

“ The law would afford it him. You have no es- 
cape.” 

“ Death.” 

“ You would not be permitted the alternative. The 
power which has placed you in his hands would keep 
you there ; you would be too closely watched for your 
self-will to have room to act.” 

“ I am to understand that I am chained, enslaved, 
powerless to act, a puppet in your hands, to move and 
direct only as you direct ? ” 

“ You are to understand that your happiness is in 
your own hands. You may move in brilliant circles, 
be admired, courted, married even to rank as well as 
wealth, but there is alone a track which can lead to 


A woman’s revenge. 


113 


these results ; and there is the alternative — destitu- 
tion, misery and degradation, without hope of escape.” 

“ You say that I am a Montrose.” 

“ And so, for the value of that consideration, is Oscar 
Ross,” she answered. “ You have seen how nobly he 
sustains the family honor ; and you cannot rise up 
from your seat and vow that you have not that man’s 
blood coursing through your proud, swelling veins.” 

An agonized sob burst from the lips of Grace, and 
she buried her face in her hands. 

Mildred bent over the cowering girl, and in a sooth- 
ing voice said : 

“ We will let our discourse on this part of our sub- 
ject end here. Let me impress upon you not to divert 
the inevitable progress of events, or to imagine that you 
can accomplish such a task. A straw may divert for a 
moment— the water accumulates, bursts over the im- 
pediment, becomes a torrent, and sweeps away the ob- 
struction with it. Wait, seek to control your destiny 
and it will hurl you to perdition.” 

Grace threw back her head, dashed the scalding tears 
from her eyes, and exclaimed in a tone impossible to 
describe : 

“I will wait my time !” 

Very good ! ” responded Mildred, in a low tone. 

Then she turned her face to Grace, and in a voice 
free from all hesitation, said : 

“ Now for the mystery of this morning.” 

Grace turned her eyes eagerly upon her and for the mo- 
ment forgot her own uncertain and unsatisfactory con- 
dition in her desire to learn from Mildred’s lips the 
revelation which she was on the point of hearing from 
the mouth of Milroy Falcon. Mildred took her hand. 

“ First let me assure you that in what you have seen 

8 


114 


A woman’s kevenge. 


there is nothing of the supernatural, not much of the 
marvelous, but something, I admit unusual ; yet even 
that I might recall ; for examine into the old families 
that surround us and you will find that within their 
records and within the walls of the mansions are secrets 
of weighty gravity, and relics of a terrifying nature, 
even as within Falcon Manor.” 

“ Within Falcon Manor? ” said Grace. 

“Yes, you have seen but little of its mysteries as 
yet ; but I repeat, it is not strange nor wonderful for 
great families to have a searet, wild mystic and ter- 
rible, carrying it down with all its evil consequences 
and its startling effects for years. The adage that 
‘ There is a skeleton in every house,’ is no false image, 
and it is true of Falcon Manor. Now listen, Grace ; 
you were this morning conducted into an old crypt, 
in which there stood a tomb bearing the recumbent 
figure of a young girl ; you also saw a memorial win- 
dow, upon which was painted a semblance of ” 

“ Here we are. Ora, here we are. This is the spot, 
the centre of the — 1 beg ten thousand pardons, ladies. 
Ha ! Miss Dupont, and the incomparable Miss Mont- 
rose. Oh, you have stolon a march on us. Most un- 
kind to quietly visit this magnificent spot, and not to 
invite Ora and I to accompany you.” 

Grace turned her head away ; she was too annoyed 
at the interruption to suffer the speech to touch her 
vanity. But Mildred in a quiet tone pointed out all 
the principal places within sight, and rendered her 
descriptions as interesting as possible by relating an- 
ecdotes of persons or incidents connected with many 
of the noteworthy spots by which they were sur- 
rounded. Her details were chosen with skill and en- 
larged upon until the purpose she had in view was ac- 


A woman’s revenge. 


115 


complished ; then she drew their attention to the fact 
that the hour of luncheon was long passed, and un- 
less they hastened back, they would have barely time to 
dress for dinner. 

Grace found the return was a long distance com- 
pared with the route by which Mildred had led her 
to the hill, and the sun was setting before the party 
entered the hall of the mansion. They were tired, 
and separated at once to dress for dinner. Mildred 
hurried to her room, and Grace had no opportunity 
of renewing the conversation which had been com- 
menced on the top of the hill. 

When they assembled at dinner she was hardly sur- 
prised to find that Milroy Falcon was absent, or to 
learn that he had been unexpectedly called to New 
York. 

Neither was she amazed at hearing Mildred an- 
nounce her intention of almost immediately following 
him to New York — thus terminating the visit of Ora 
and Roderick D’Olier at Falcon Manor — or to be told 
that she would be Mildred’s companion in her journey 
to the city. 

Grace had already formed many hopes and wishes 
respecting Falcon Manor and the mysterious crypt in 
the plantation of the black pines, but she also felt the 
necessity for silently biding her time. 

In going to New York she had one fear, that of 
encountering Ross. After what Mildred had said, as 
well as intimated, she had become apprehensive of the 
man’s power over her, and of the use he would make 
of it. 

He * H< >i< 

Two or three days after this, Grace found herself 
alone with Mildred in the same house, and in the same 


116 


A woman’s eevengb. 


room into which she had introduced her on the night 
of the parting from the now dreaded Oscar Ross. 

Grace cast her eyes around her, and gazed upon the 
door of the sleeping-room in which she had cried her- 
self to sleep on that night. 

She turned to Mildred and pointed to the room. 

“ Is that to be my room during my stay here ?’’ 

“ You came here in secret ; you rested here unseen ; 
you quitted clandestinely. Under those circumstances 
that room was your abiding-place. It is so no longer. 
You now arrive here as the cousin of Milroy Falcon, 
the heiress of a splendid fortune — your suite of rooms 
will be fitting your station. Forbear to ask more or to 
seek to learn further until the hour comes. As you 
have said, ‘ Bide your time.’ ” 

Again, as before, when these words were uttered she 
seemed to dilate, and, with flashing eyes and a proudly 
curling lip, she ejaculated with earnestness: 

“I will!” 

Suddenly Milroy Falcon made his appearance in the 
house ; and such had been the skillful operations of 
Mildred, that his presence — though it might have been 
looked for at any time — seemed to Grace abrupt and 
unexpected. 

Everything that had happened had the appearance 
of being accidental, yet nothiug occurred without de- 
sign, or without having been produced by the skillful 
agency of Mildred Dupont. 

One morning she said to Grace while at breakfast : 

“ I have accepted an invitation for you to-night. Mrs. 
Astor holds as brilliant assembly. I have cards. I will 
attend to your toilet myself ; you must resign yourself 
to my direction and you will create a sensation.” 

Grace turned away thoughtfully. To her the power 


A woman’s kevenge. 


IIT ■ 


to accomplish seemed to require no effort. Incited by 
a passion for music and dancing, to acquire both with 
ease was but a natural consequence. 

Never before had the full appliances of art in dress 
been employed in decorating the well-formed, elegant 
figure of Grace ; nor had the skill of the coiffeur been 
exercised with such taste and success. 

When ready to depart, Mildred surveyed her with 
eyes gleaming with triumph. 

“ Grace,” she exclaimed, in tones of singular exulta- 
tion, “ you are brilliantly heautiful.” 

Arriving at the Astor mansion they passed on into 
the ballroom. Grace trod the magnificent salon as 
though it had ever been her lot to move in such an at- 
mosphere. She heard on all sides the whisper, “ Who is 
she ? ” and forgetting the cheerless school-days, and the 
fetid garret of lower New York, she beheld the blaz- 
ing lights, the glowing faces by which she was encom- 
passed, impressed with the conviction that she was in 
her own sphere. 

Suddenly she found herself face to face with Ora 
D’Olier, who warmly welcomed her, and Roderick, who 
greeted her with evident surprise at her brilliant ap- 
pearance. 

“ Permit me, Grace, to do the honors of an introduc- 
tion,” as two elegant ladies came toward them. “Miss 
Dupont, Miss Montrose, permit me to present to you, 
Mrs. Whitney Burdell and Miss Dottie Burdell.” 

The eyes, of the four ladies fastened upon each other 
with eager scrutiny ; most of all did Mrs. Whitney 
Burdell and Grace scrutinize each other. 

Mrs. Burdell, with a sudden impulse, took the hand 
of Grace, and pressed it with a warmth far beyond the 


118 


A woman‘s revenge. 


mode of the usual salutation : the act itself was most 
uncommon, and it drew Grace’s special attention. 

“ I am pleased with this introduction, Miss Montrose, 
it will gratify me to extend the acquaintance. I am 
convinced that 1 Will like you very much.” 

“ The feeling is mutual,” said Grace, in a low tone. 

At this moment Roderick beckoned to a gentleman, 
who rapidly approached, and instantly said: 

“ Miss Montrose, I have the honor to introduce to 
you my old and esteemed friend, Wilton Granger.” 

Grace, raising her eyes, saw before her the face which 
Mildred had drawn her attention to on the night she 
had left Ross, and which she said she should never for- 
get. 


CHAPTER XII. 

Jack Duke had found his partner in abduction, Jim 
Hanks, had directed him by an exceedingly vague and 
blind route. In the daylight, perhaps it naight have 
been well; but in the dark, the masses of tangled 
bushes utterly confused him. 

At times he was compelled to come to an abrupt 
halt, being entangled in the thorny bushes. 

All the while the boy struggled and moaned, and 
tried to throw himself to the ground. 

At last he came to a sudden halt. 

“ This won’t do. I seem to be galloping in a circle, 
like a horse rider in a circus. Be still, boy ; I don’t 
mean to hurt you. You are going to be made a gen- 
tleman, and have a horse to ride of j^our own. Be 
quiet, your struggles pain and hurt you, not me ; and 


A woman's revenge. 


119 


they will never make me release you — no never, never, 
do that.” 

A low moan responded to his words, and then the 
boy became motionless. 

, Jack put his spurs to his horse and galloped over the 
open part of the fields. 

He had scarcely covered a mile of ground when he 
uttered a cry*: 

“ The devil ! yonder is Fox Hollow, close to old 
Burdell’s cottage.” 

Once more the horse’s head was turned ; and again 
urging the beast to a gallop, Jack ejaculated : “ I’ll 
take the road at all hazards.” He swept over the brow 
of the hill, and down into a hollow, and before he could 
pull in his horse, he found himself in the heart of a 
gipsy encampment. Fires were lighted ; and though 
the hour was late, men were seated around the blazing 
wood, smoking pipes, and engaged in conversation. 

The unexpected appearance of the horse and rider 
clattering in amongst them, occasioned a roar of sur- 
prise, and every member of the fraternity sprang to his 
feet. 

Jack saw his dilemma at a glance, and his only chance 
of escape. He dived his hand into his breast pocket, 
and drew out a pistol, while he plunged his spurs into 
the already bleeding sides of his willing horse. 

The poor beast snorted, and gave a mad start for- 
ward ; the pain, again and again inflicted, infuriated 
him, and he increased his speed to a frantic pace. 

One huge fellow made a mad leap at the bridle, but 
Jack fired at him, and he passed behind like a fleeting 
shadow. Away over the hill, and down again into a 
hollow, followed by a string of savage, reckless men 


120 


A woman’s revenge. 


like a pack of wolves laid on to the scent of human 
blood. 

Down into the gorge, the ground studded with de- 
caying stumps of shattered trees. Jack heard the yell 
of exultation which burst from his pursuers as his mad- 
dened horse dashed down into this fatal gully, and al- 
most the next instant he experienced a tremendous 
crash. 

Some men of powerful mental capacities, or what 
may be better termed brute energy, will endure, with- 
out losing their senses, a collision which would strike 
others dead. This was the case with Jack Duke. His 
horse had fallen and flung him with tremendous force ; 
but though terribly shaken and stunned, he was yet 
keenly sensible of the danger of his position. 

He had saved the boy from injury when thrown, he 
knew that, and by a violent ex;ertion he drew himself 
to his feet, abandoned his struggling, plunging horse, 
which he was sure was of no further use to him in his 
present position, and flinging the boy over his shoulder, 
forced his way among the bushes, with desperate 
strength, and gained the opposite rise only to find it, 
though of no great height, almost as perpendicular as a 
wall. 

The shouts of the men were in his rear, right and 
left ; but with his burden impossible to surmount the 
obstacle, he was at bay. 

He stood firm to face his foe ; drawing his second 
pistol and attempting to reload the one discharged. 
He was too late. 

Crashing over the stunted bushes, leaping and yell- 
ing, poured the men. Some seized the horse and 
assisted him to rise, while others rushed up to surround 
Jack. 


A Woman’s hevengij. ' 121 

As they closed upon him, he shouted in a voice of 
thunder : 

“ Stand back ! I’ll blow out the brains of the first 
man that attempts to lay a finger upon me.” 

“ You tried that on one just now,” roared a tall fel- 
low, making his way through his companions and con- 
fronting Jack ; “and you went near enough to scoop 
a bit out of my cheek-bone.” 

“I’ll not miss you this time,” said Jack, fiercely. 
“ Keep back, or the bullet at your first step will crash 
through your skull. Back ! or I pull the trigger. I 
have no wish in any way to injure any one of you, 
and if you will assist me out of this place, and put me 
on the wa}" to the depot so that I can get back to New 
York, I will, when I can communicate with my friend 
Jesse Lings, reward you for the service you may do 
me.” 

“Oh, your friend Jesse Lings!” ejaculated the tall 
fellow, whose cheek was bleeding freely. 

“ Oh, we don’t want to hurt you if you don’t want 
to hurt us,” said another fellow, sidling up. 

At the same moment, with the rapidity of lightning, 
he, with a strong ash stick, struck up Jack’s pistol. 

The tall gipsy, observing his companion’s intention, 
flung himself upon Jack, and seized him around the 
body ; two others quickly pinioned him round the arms. 
One produced from his pocket some thin strong cord, 
and with the quickness of thought. Jack was bound 
hand and foot, a helpless prisoner. 

He was lifted up by several of the men, and con- 
veyed to the encampment. 

The boy in the blanket was also conveyed there, 
while one or two brought up the rear with the cob. 

When the encampment was reached the wood em- 




A woman’s eevenge. 


bers were stirred up into a blaze, and the blanket was 
removed from what was supposed to be the stolen body 
of a lamb or a pig. A shout of surprise followed the 
discovery of the motionless boy. 

“I’ll be blowed if it ain’t a little dead boy! ” cried 
one of the men. 

“No, no — not dead,” roared Jack; “dash some wa- 
ter in his face ; he has fainted.” 

“ Hi ! hi ! Zulie I ” shouted the tall gipsy. 

Almost immediately from one of the huts a half- 
dressed woman crept, and in a few words the tall man 
told her the condition of the boy. 

She hurried to him, and from her pocket she pro- 
duced a small bottle, containing a dark liquid. Some 
of this she poured into the palms of her hands, and 
rubbing them together, applied her damp hands to "the 
boy’s temples and to his nostrils. 

. In a short time the boy’s head rolled from side to 
side, then his eyes opened, and he gazed about him 
wildly, looking with alarm upon the swarthy faces 
and dark fierce eyes bent upon him. With a cry of 
terror he hid his face, and burst into tears. 

“ Stand back all of you ! ” exclaimed the old woman ; 
“you frighten him.” 

With a laugh the men stepped back to indulge 
themselves with a stare at Jack. 

The woman bent over the boy, and whispered in 
his ear : 

“Don’t be afraid. Chuck, it’s me. Don’t you know 
me? it’s Zulie, talking to my sweet Chuck ! You ain’t 
afraid of Zulie, no ? ” 

The boy removed his hands from his eyes. “ Is it 
really you, Zulie ? ” 

“To be sure it is, my boy,” she replied, in a tender 


A woman’s eevenge. 


128 


tone ; “ look in my face ; there — ain’t it you Zulie, 
Chuck.” 

“ Oh, yes ! oh, yes ! I’m so glad. Oh, dear good 
Ziilie, take me home, take me home — do take me 
home.” 

“ That I will, my herb o’ grace,” she answered in 
soothing tones. “ Nobody shall hurt a hair o’ your 
head. If he tries it he will taste the virtue of a knife 
between his ribs ; they know Zulie — they know Zulie 
don’t make them promises ’cause 'she’s fond of jok- 
ing.” 

A young girl now joined her, and the old woman 
said to her : 

Take him up in your arms, Gatha, while I goes and 
speaks to Swift ; take care on him. Zulie will be back 
again. Chuck,” she concluded, as the girl wrapped him 
in the horse-blanket, taking him up in her arms. 

The old woman approached the tall gipsy as he was 
engaged applying the juice of some plant to his bleed- 
ing cheek. She caught him by the arm, and standing 
on tip-toe, whispered in his ear : 

“ Don’t you know who the boy is ? ” 

»No!” 

“ The child Harold Burdell,” she returned. 

“ The child Harold Burdell I ” he echoed. “ Stuff, 
it ’tain’t.” 

“I tell you it’s the pet bird himself. Who ought 
to know him if I don’t ? ” cried the woman. 

Tlie big fellow uttered an exclamation, and stalked 
toward Jack Duke, followed by Zulie. 

Jack had strangely altered the looks of his face. 
He had roughed up his hair, muddled his features, 
twisted out his mustache, and so far as he could, al- 
tered his beard, while he lowered his eye-brows almost 


124 


A woman’s revenge. 


to his cheek bones and puckered up the corners of 
his mouth. 

The gipsy regarded him with earnest and close scru- 
tiny for more than a minute. 

Then he said, abruptly, “What was you going to 
do with that boy ? ” 

“What is that to you ? ” asked Jack, gruffly. 

“ Why, a good deal. If I thought you intended 
him any hurt, I’d stake you to a ring and make my 
hound Grip bite you till there warn’t a rag o’ flesh 
on you.” 

Jack preserved a grim silence. 

“ Tell me what you was going to do with him, or 
I’ll beat your skull in with a club.” 

“ I don’t care for what you do,” answered Jack, in 
the same growling tone. “ Give me my arms and legs 
free, and I’d show you such a back fall as you never 
saw before and would not wish to see again.’' 

“ What was you going to do with the boy ? ” ex- 
claimed Zulie, sharply. 

There was mischief in her tone. 

“ I was not going to hurt him,” he said ; “in fact, 
all the other way. I was going to take him where 
he has a right to be — to a noble mansion — not a 
wretched hut — where he would dress finely and not 
wear threadbare clothes as he does now, where all 
that gold could lavish upon him would be his, and 
wliere everything would be done to make him as 
happy as the day is long. Jesse Lings knows what 
1 was going to do with him.” 

“Jesse Lings i” echoed the woman, with the same 
surprise as Swift Lane had exhibited. 

“ How much of this is bounce ? ” asked Swift. 

“Just as much as there is in your courage,” 


A woman’s revenge. 


125 


“ How did you get the boy in your hands ? ” 

“Ask Jim Hanks.” 

Both Swift and Zulie showed their surprise. 

“Ho! ho! you are. the man who’s been staying at 
Jesse Lings, last night and to-day ! ” 

“What of that?” 

“ I think you’ll know soon enough,” was the reply, 
as Swift swung round to addre'ss his companions. 

“ Wait ! ” cried Jack to him in earnest tones. “ One 
word with you first ! ” 

“ Well, what have you got to say ? ” 

“ It is very clear that some miserable mistake about 
me is afloat, and in consequence of which I have been, 
and am likely to get into a great deal of trouble. First 
of all, Mrs. Lings mistook me for a man who shot her 
brother.” 

Swift fastened a glittering, searching eye upon him. 

“ Well no,” he multered, “you wam’t that man.” 

“ No, I am not, Mrs. Lings knows that now.” 

“ Does she? ” exclaimed Zulie, with emphasis. 

“ Ask her.” 

“ I will,” said the woman. 

“ Next, I’m supposed to be a thief-taker, or spy, or 
something like that.” 

“ Well ! ” growled Swift. 

“ Jes Lings can answer for me.” 

“Can he?” said Swift, suddenly. “Well, then he 
shall.” 

“ As soon as you like.” 

“ Now’s a good time ; nothing like the present time,” 
responded Swift. “ We will go to him now — we shall 
be sure to find him.” 

“I am ready,” exclaimed Jack; “release my arms 
and legs, and I’ll go with you with pleasure,” 


126 


A woman’s revenge. 


“ Your legs, perhaps,” said Swift ; “ but your arms 
is very well as they is.” 

The cords were removed from Jack’s legs, and he 
was lifted to his feet. Swift, attended by half a dozen 
men and Zulie, who had given some instructions to the 
girl respecting the boy, led the way. 

Over the fields they took their way, making direct 
for Jesse Lings’, which in time they reached. Swift 
led the way into a back room, and all entered it. Swift 
carefully fastening the door. 

Then followed a suspicious whispering between Swift 
and Zulie. At length Swift left the room, and was ab- 
sent, to Jack, a most irksome time ; Zulie uttered not 
a word, but sat with her eyes fixed upon him. 

Presently the door opened, and Swift and Jesse 
Lings entered together and the door was closed again. 

“ Now,” said Swift, sternly, “ you told me, and you 
are ready to swear to it, that you are not the man who 
shot Jed Lane, and then caused him to be hung.” 

Jack Duke felt a cold thrill vibrate through him. 

“ You yourself said you knew me not to be the 
man.” 

“ Good,” said Swift. You said Jes Lings would 
answer for you being no thief-taker.” 

“ Oh, I’ll answer for that!” exclaimed Jes Lings, 
readily, but with a grim, sinister expression on his coun- 
tenance. 

“ Good ! ” ejaculated Swift. Again addressing Jack, 
he said : “ You told me Jim Hanks could tell me how 

the boy Harold got into your hands.” 

“ So he can, for I gave him five hundred dollars to 
do it. I don’t know how he got him : he brought him 
to me, and I handed over the money to him.” 


A woman’s revenge. 


127 


“ Bring in Jim Hanks,” exclaimed Swift, to one of 
the men. 

The man nodded, left the room, and the next minute 
entered, accompanied by the grisly gipsy. 

The statement of Jack Duke was repeated to him. 

“ It’s all a lie ! ” he cried, with a rough laugh. 

“He was showing money to-night,” said Jesse Lings, 
without relaxing his grim features ; “ and he said, he’d 
enough about him to buy out a good many of us.” 

“ Search him I ” said Swift. 

Hanks struck out right and left, and felled to the 
ground two of the gipsies nearest to. him; then rushed 
out of the door, and dashed out of the house. 

“ Go after him Hep — track him ; he’s got the money,” 
roared Swift. 

One of the men who had been struck by Hanks 
quitted the room, evincing considerable satisfaction at 
the instructions to pursue the fellow who had dealt 
him so severe a blow. 

“ I’ve proved all I have told you,” said Jack, as the 
door closed, “ I hope you are satisfied now.” 

Swift turned to Jesse Lings. 

“ Where’s Nan ? ” said he. 

“Here!” 

He swung around quickly and faced his sister. 

“ Do you 'see that man ? ” he asked, pointing to Jack 
Duke. 

She fixed her eyes upon him with a clear steady 
glance. Jack looked into her eyes with an expression 
of intense anxiety, but she showed no sign that she in- 
terpreted it. 

“ Do you know him ? ” asked Swift. 

“ I do,” she replied. 

“ Enough ! ” he ejaculated. 


128 


A woman’s revenge. 


Then he turned to Jack Duke, and pointed to Nan. 

“You told me that she believed you to be the mur- 
derer of her brother ? ” 

“ I did, ” replied Jack. 

“He spoke the truth,” exclaimed Nan. 

Swift scowled upon her. 

“ By what name do you call yourself ? ” 

“Jack Duke,” answered Jack, loudly. 

“ Liar ! ” he shouted. “ You are Oscar Ross.” 

A growl burst from the lips of Jesse Lings, and a 
shrill yell from old Zulie. 

Jesse Lings drew out a knife, and sprang at him 
with uplifted arm ; but his wrist was caught, and he 
was flung aside, falling with a crash at the feet of Swift. 

Nan had thrust him off. She stood before Jack 
Duke ; her eyes shone like stars. 

“ It shall not be done ! ” she said, with compressed lips. 

Jesse sprang to his feet, ra_ging like a hyena ; and 
would again have dashed both at his wife and the man 
she protected, had not Swift seized him, and held him 
with a firm grip. He foamed at the mouth and strug- 
gled violently. 

“ Let him come,” said Nan, as she held up a long 
Spanish stiletto. “ I knew him to be passionate before 
I married him, and I knew that in those freaks my life 
was worth little, unless I was well prepared, to defend 
myself. Zulie gave me this ; she will tell him that 
the point is poisoned. Let him come.” 

Jesse Lings stared at her. Could he believe his ears, 
his eyes ? What I she stand up to defend that man ! 

“ Fool ! ” he shrieked. “ He is Oscar Ross — that same 
Oscar Ross who shot your brother — that same Oscar 
Ross who hunted him down, who never left him until 
he was hanged — hanged at Sing Sing ! ” he yelled. 


A woman’s revenge. 


129 


“ Stand out of the way, Nan,” muttered Swift, 
hoarsely. 

“ No ! ” she cried, bringing up the knife to view. 
“ I will not let a man be murdered upon supposition.” 

“ He is Oscar Ross ! ” cried Zulie, with shrill vindic- 
tiveness. 

“ I say he is not ! Speak, man, speak ! and clear 
yourself.” 

“ Oh, that my arms were at liberty ! — I here declare 
my name to be Jack Duke, and no other. I never knew 
a Oscar Ross.” 

“ There ! ” said Nan. 

The others seemed stdggered, and Jesse Lings, face 
had an indescribable expression. 

“ Hear me ! ” cried Nan. “ Attempt to hang him, and 
I will have every man of this tribe hanged, to keep 
him company.” 

“ You ! ” cried old Zulie, with glowing eyes. 

“ Yes, I will,” said Nan, fastening her flashing eyes 
upon her. 

“ Nan may be right after all,” said Jesse. 

“No, she’s not,” said Swift and old Zulie. 

“ I say she may ; it may be a case of mistaken iden- 
tity ! I say we had better talk it over; come into the 
parlor, and leave him here — he’ll be safe enough.” 

One man was left in the room to guard him, and 
when all had departed, including Nan, who turned no 
glance toward him as she left, he sat in gloomy thought. 
His thoughts had hardly shaped themselves, when he 
saw the room door open quickly ; Nan slipped in like a 
dart, and touched the man on guard, sitting near the 
door watching Jack, on the shoulder. 

“ Quick, quick,” she cried, in low tones. “ The man 
has tracked Jim Hanks; he has gone for the giant oak. 
9 


130 


A woman’s revenge. 


Swift says you shall have a share of what’s on him if 
you catch him. Away out with you, man, quick, 
quick.” 

“ All right. Nan,” cried the fellow ; and out of the 
room, and out of the house he fled like a deer. 

Nan ran up to Jack. From beneath her apron she 
produced a large carving knife ; with one gash of it, 
Jack was at liberty. She opened the window. “ Out 
of here into the stable yard. There is a low wall at 
the back — over that — and into the country! Away for 
your life — for your life ! ” 

“But I will see you again, though I risk my life a 
thousand times. Nan I ” he exclaimed. 

“ You shall I I will see you in New York, some time 
to come,” she said, hurriedly. 

“ New Ybrk — say the jungles of India. Write me a 
note, address it Jack Duke, General Postoffice, New 
York ; I will be sure to get it.” 

“ I will, I will remember ; but go — for your life’s 
sake, go ! ” 

“My life is yours, Nan.” He pressed her suddenly 
to his breast, then leaped on to the edge of the window 
sill and thence into the yard. 

The window was closed behind hiin instantly. He 
pushed through the stable yard, found the low wall, 
vaulted over it, and was quickly into the open country 
beyond. 

He- pushed on at a rapid pace, and did not pause until 
he had reached some distance ; then he turned to look 
to see how far he had left the house behind him. In tfie 
distance he saw a man running, making toward him. 

“Followed, by Jove,” he cried. “Here goes.” 

He sprang off at full speed, and kept it up, for he 
knew that the issue of the race would be life or death. 


A WOxMAN’s bevknge. 


131 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Wilton Granger, immediately the ceremony of 
introduction ceased, begged the next dance with Grace. 
Roderick D'Olier instantly engaged the evidently not 
reluctant Dottie Burdell, and with a little impetuosity 
contrived to be in the same set with Wilton Granger 
and Grace. 

Grace at once found herself the object of close at- 
tention to Roderick and to Dottie, while she was pain- 
fully sensible that Wilton Granger was, with a critical 
eye, scrutinizing every feature in her face. 

Grace seemed unable to control her own eyes and 
prevent them settling upon the face of him who stood 
at her side. That face which she had seen but once 
before, she had never forgotten, and never should. 

It was indescribably handsome — to her an almost 
terrifying beauty. It was a face which possessed amaz- 
ing powers of fascination — not those which create rever- 
ence, esteem, affection, but rather those which raised 
emotion in which passion predominates and virtue takes 
no part; it was the fascination of the snake — luring, 
attracting, drawing close, but only for destruction. 

Grace was at once conscious of its true nature, and 
while she instantly resolved to keep herself without 
the circle of its influence, she thought of Ora D’Olier. 

“ This man,” she mused, “ will, if he has not, win her 
heart for pastime, and then, as a child wearied with its 
toy, destroy it from mere sport. Will she be warned? 
Alas ! drive a moth from a candle, and it returns to 
plunge madly into the flames.” 


132 


A woman’s eevenge. 


“ Are you fond of indulging in fits of abstraction, 
Miss Montrose ? ” exclaimed a low, bell-toned voice in 
her ear. 

She started. It was Wilton Granger who spoke. 

“ I have been accustomed to solitude,” she replied, 
in a quiet tone. “ Relying upon self-resources for 
amusement, and denied the outward manifestation of 
satisfaction or pleasure, a species of reverie has been 
engendered, which hitherto I have much enjoyed ; but 
T suppose as I mix more in society, I must abandon 
even this small pleasure.” 

“ After all. Miss Montrose. If we are to select this,” 
(he pointed around him) “as the world in which we 
elect to revolve, let us conform to its conventionalities, 
and in the name of goodness forget those we learned 
at home in the nursery, at school, or out of those good 
books which taught us propriety in two syllables I ” 

“I have not much adaptability, I fear,” replied Grace 
coldly. 

The dance has commenced, and Grace went through 
her first quadrille with a wildly beating heart, but a 
self-possession which enabled her perfectly to remem- 
ber what she had been taught, and performed the part 
assigned her with graceful ease. 

“ Have you any faith in presentiments. Miss Mont- 
rose? ” exclaimed Wilton Granger suddenly, so sud- 
denly that Grace was startled. It was a subject which 
at the moment had possession of her mind ; she hardly 
knew what to reply at first. 

“ Presentiments take many forms ; to what class do 
you allude ? ” 

“ I speak of that presentiment which rises up like a 
spectral shadow in heart and brain ; when in society 
we at a moment encounter one until then a stranger, to 


A woman’s revenge. 


133 


whom it points and says. ‘ There is one with whose 
destiny yours is woven.’ Do you understand me 
now?” 

“ I may better probably when I am subjected to so 
remarkable a visitation.” 

“ Miss Montrose, I seem to hear a loud-toned voice . 
sounding in my ear and vibrating through my brain, 
telling me that our destinies are interwoven ” 

“I see Mr. Milroy Falcon has joined our friends,” 
exclaimed Grace, coldly, with an assumed air of having 
paid no attention to the last observation made by 
Wilton Granger. “Pardon me, I will return to them, 
now the dance is ended.” 

He bit his lip, and his brows contracted as he con- 
ducted her to where Mildred Dupont, Milroy Falcon, 
Mrs. Burdell and Dottie were grouped together. 

Mildred darted a sharp glance at Wilton Granger’s 
face, and again at Grace’s, and then, with a satisfied ex- 
pression, she turned to watch Mrs. Burdell and Milroy 
Falcon, who were in conversation with each other. 
Roderick soon joined the party, and it was during a 
burst of merriment that a shadow interposed. It glided 
like a spectre in their midst, and a dead silence ensued. 

It was Whitney Falcon Burdell. 

He glared round him, and said sternly : “ Mrs. 

Burdell, Miss Burdell, your carriage is waiting for you.” 

With constrained and angered dignity, he offered to 
each an arm, and then he bent his frowning eyes on 
Milroy Falcon, who met his gaze with a calm look of 
scorn. 

“ I insist, Milroy Falcon, that this is a mean attempt 
to reunite the divided branches of our race, by endeav- 
oring surreptitiously to make acquaintance with those 
members of my family, who know nothing of the causes 


134 


A woman’s kevenge. 


which have separated us, or which is of far more im- 
portance — your antecedents.” 

Milroy Falcon started, yet he controlled himself. 

“With your object,” continued Whitney Burdell, 
“ I cannot be in doubt ; but be assured by me that it 
will never succeed, and every attempt to effect it will 
be ignominiously defeated.” 

“ My object ! ” muttered Milroy Falcon, with an air 
of surprise. 

“ Oh, sir, it may suit you to affect ignorance, but your 
efforts at deception, or any of your arts, affect me only 
in one way — you can guess what that is without fatigu- 
ing me to give the explanation.” 

“ Whitney Burdell, I do not envy you the sense you 
must at this moment feel of the contemptible part j^ou 
are acting. From our boyhood you have indulged an 
enmity to which I have added nothing, but would far 
rather have smoothed away. Ever and always you 
have been the aggressor. I have treated your proceed- 
ings with indifference ; now I view them with scorn. 
Henceforth, beware ! I submit no longer to aggression 
without retaliation j I accept the enmity as you offer 
it. Do your worst, Whitney Burdell, I defy even as I 
despise you.” 

Milroy Falcon waved his hand with scornful dis- 
dain, bowed low and respectfully to Mrs. Burdell and 
Dottie, and walked away. 

The veins in the forehead of Whitney Burdell 
swelled like cords. With a smothered exclamation of 
rage and hate he strode from the room, dragging rather 
than conducting his wife and daughter with him. 

Mildred Dupont looked to the last upon Mrs. Bur- 
dell ; who as she left the ballroom turned her head, 
and gave a hurried glance behind heij* Mildred smiled. 


A woman’s bevenge. 


185 


“The proof,” she muttered; and added, “it is 
sealed.” 

She turned to her friends who were yet silent, and 
whose faces exhibited traces of great surprise, and 
said : 

“Whitney Burdellis fond of scenes; he would have 
made one here, but that Milroy would not humor him.” 

“ He is a disgraceful creature,” observed Ora. “It 
is painful to be at their house when he is in town ; he 
snubs Dottie, and frowns without speaking to his wife.” 

“I fancy,” said Wilton Granger, “that Mrs. Burdell 
is a match for him there ; she is a marble rock — a very 
glacier.” 

“ Outwardly,” responded Mildred ; “ but you have 
hearTl the trite figure of the snow-capped mountain, 
beneath which rages a volcano.” 

“ I believe in the metaphor most devoutly,” returned 
Wilton, with an earnest gaze full in the eyes of Grace. 
“ But certainly her marriage was one of convenience ; 
she wished for position, and she took the man for it. 
Oh ! she could never love in her life.” 

“ Never,” said Mildred, “ until — she ” 

“ Until when ? ” asked Wilton, 

Until she meets with him who unites those qualifi- 
cations with which she has adorned her ideal,” was the 
emphatic reply. “ When she loves, it will be an adora- 
tion for which she will make any sacrifice or dare any 
danger.” 

“ A noble passion ! ” cried Wilton, again regarding 
Grace with earnest eyes. “ Give me love of that wo- 
man who sees, in the world, alone the object of her 
choice ; the love which faints at no difficulty to gain 
happiness for the loved ; which pauses at no sacrifice 
to testify its affection ; whose impulses are raised by 


136 


A WOMAN S KEVENGE. 


her love for him, and for him alone ; which sees a beauty 
in his daily life that no human weakness or infirmities 
he may display can weaken or diminish r-” 

“ How preposterously absurd,” laughed Roderick. 

“ What do you say. Miss Montrose?” asked Wilton. 

Her lips curled. “ Yet not impossible,” she said. 

Mildred with fine tact changed the conversation, and 
neither Grace or Ora cared to dance again. 

That night when they had reached their home, Mil- 
dred came into Grace’s room to talk with her. 

After discussing the evening’s entertainment, they 
gradually approached the subject which embraced the 
meeting of Milroy and Whitney Burdell. Mildred 
spoke of it evasively, but Grace was too much inter- 
ested in everything with which she considered herself 
connected to pass it over. 

“ Were Milroy and Mr. Burdell friends when they 
were boys ? ” 

“ Why do you put that question ? ” inquired Mil- 
dred, regarding her earnestly. 

^ “ For no other reason than that Milroy seemed to im- 

ply as much,” she returned. 

“Never friends — they were slightly acquainted in 
youth. But, let that pass ; their early quarrels cannot 
interest or affect either you or I ; but think of it, there 
are two favors I especially beseech you to grant to 
me.” 

“ What are they ? ” 

“ Will you promise me jouv consent ? ” urged Mil- 
dred. 

Grace smiled, and placed her hand in Mildred’s. 

“ You know my foible, I think you call it,” she said, 
“ of not promising anything until I am able to perform 
it.” 


A WOMAN^S EEVENGE. 137 

“You can perform both with ease. First you are 
ostensibly of the same line as Milroy Falcon, and 
Whitney Burdell’s ban does not reach you. Now Mrs. 
Burdell expresses a sudden liking for you. I most 
strongly desire you to cultivate her friendship. Do not 
ask me why. I can only answer that I am most anxious 
to achieve this object. Will you, Grace dear, oblige 
me in doing this ? ” 

“ In a degree it is awkward,” answered Grace ; “ but 
if there is no difficulty in meeting with her again ” 

“ None whatever.” 

“ Then I can see no reason for refusing you.” 

“ Your consent? ” 

“I do, and with pleasure, for I too, conceived a pre- 
dilection for Mrs. Burdell as soon as I beheld her.” 

“ So far well,” exclaimed Mildred with a pleased 
smile ; adding, “ my other request promises not to be so 
easily granted.” 

I will be as compliant as I can, for I have much to 
be grateful to you for.” 

“ Never speak of that. To my favor. It is that you 
exert yourself by such winning arts and wiles as women 
gifted with beauty — humble compared to yours — em- 
ploy when they seek to enthral the affections of man, 
to win the love of — ” she paused. 

Grace looked at her with astonishment. 

“ Of whom ? ” she asked. 

“You cannot dream of its importance,” exclaimed 
Mildred. 

“ Of whom?” repeated Grace. 

“ Wilton Granger ! ” cried Mildred, in a tone that 
electrified Grace. 


138 


A woman's KEVENGE. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

The morning after Jack Duke’s escape from Jesse 
Lings’ house found him in his new quarters in the city, 
far removed from Hook Flint’s unsavory den. He had 
taken a bath and robed himself in his best. When all 
ready he surveyed himself in the glass. 

“Not much like Jack Duke in this style,” he ex- 
claimed with satisfaction ; and added, “ how those 
bright black eyes would glitter and flash to see me now, 
and hear tender words from my lips. Nan, we must 
meet again, and you shall see me thus.” 

Leaving some directions with his landlady, Oscar 
Ross, Jack Duke, sallied forth once more as Major De 
Montrose. 

He directed his steps toward Fifth Avenue, and saun- 
tered toward the Burdell mansion, having no specific 
object in doing so. As he slowly walked on, a hand- 
some carriage passed with two ladies in it. In an in- 
stant he recognized Mildred Dupont and Grace. 

“Grace, by Jove,” he ejaculated; “how changed, 
what a beauty she is I What an ass I must be not to 
have discovered that before ! Oh ! if I had known — no 
matter, it is not too late, wait until I catch her alone. 
She is a flne dressed lady now, but still in my power.” 

While yet looking after them, unconscious of the 
look of horror and aversion with whicji Grace had rec- 
ognized him, a carriage dashed past him ; he saw in it 
Mrs. Burdell and Dottie. 

The eyes of the proud lady and his met. It was a 
strange expression of threat and defiance which passed 
between them. 


A woman’s liEVENGE. 


139 


Nevertheless he raised his hat, and bowed low. 

At the same moment a hand was laid upon his 
shoulder, and he beheld the sallow, shaggy-haired face 
and bloodshot eyes of Jim Hanks close to him. 

There in the broad sunlight,- surrounded by fashion- 
ables, stood confronting him the ragged, travel-stained 
gipsy, in the vrle costume of a horse thief, addressing 
him too in loud tones of familiarity. 

This apparition, still keeping one hand firmly upon 
Oscar Ross’s shoulder, seized his delicate -hued gloved 
hand with the other, with a warm ardor which prom- 
ised to weld the four knuckles into one. 

Only that very morning while thinking with vindic- 
tive though half-formed purpose respecting Swift Lane, 
he endeavored to suggest to himself a plan by which 
he could fall in with Hanks, and lo ! there stood the 
man. 

But he must not be seen in such company; so thrust- 
ing a card and some money in Hanks’ hand, be told him 
to come to his rooms that night, and then swiftly made 
his wajr down a side street, and never slackened the 
rapidity of his walk until he found himself inside of 
his own private room door, where he found Mildred 
Dupont awaiting him. 

He looked with utter surprise at her. 

“ You ara surprised ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ Well, slightly, I tho^ught you had continued your 
drive up the ave — ” said he. 

“ I understood that you gave me a sign, and so left 
the carriage and hastened here.” 

“Well, no, not exactly,” was the reply. 

Just then a ring at the street door made him start, 
and before he had a chance to speak, the room door was 
suddenly opened. 


140 


A WOMAN'S HEVENGE. 


He was electrified at beholding the grimy face and 
shaggy locks of Jim Hanks protruding through the 
door. 

He looked aghast as the ruffian quickly and abruptly 
entered, closed the door, placed his back against it, and 
folding his arms, regarded him with a defiant air. 

“ Leave the room ! ” thundered Ros^ as he advanced 
toward the gipsy. 

“ Keep off I ” cried Hanks. “I know what you can 
do, you know ; and I don’t want to try another fall 
Avith you. I want to talk quietly and gentleman-like 
with you.” 

I neither know nor desire to speak to you,” roared 
Ross, who was far more afraid of Hanks’ tongue than his 
fists ; he was afraid Mildred would hear the very thing 
he was so desirous to keep secret from her till the right 
time came, and then she would bid high for the secret. 

“ Go out of this room or I will fling you down the 
stairs ! ” 

“ You do know me,” returned Hanks ; “ I’m Jim 
Hanks, you know ; I got you the child ” 

Ross sprang upon him, seized him by the throat, 
swung him around, and dragged him to the door, which 
opened on the instant, and introduced Hook Flint, in 
the garb, and with all the peculiarity of appearance 
which pertains to the director of a wealthy public 
company, a banker, a stockbroker — any business in 
which the transactions are of a specially wealthy 
nature. 

His entrance caused a pause in the struggle. Ross 
was as loth that Hook Flint should know aught of the 
transaction in which he and the gipsy he held in his 
grasp had been engaged, as he AA^as for Mildred to learn 
it ; but he felt himself at once to be the victim of cir- 


A woman’s revenge. 


141 


ciimstances, and the best thing h§ could do would be to 
swim with the stream and strive no longer against the 
adverse form they were evidently assuming. 

“ What is all this ? ” exclaimed Hook Flint, taking 
in at a comprehensive glance the whole situation ; 
“ struggling, fighting, before a lady who appears to be 
frightened out of her wits at your behavior ! * Oh, bad, 
very bad ; very bad, indeed.” 

“ This man is an intruder here,” exclaimed Ross, be- 
tween his teeth. “ He refuses to leave this room, into 
which he has most unwarrantably forced himself, and I 
am about to try the force of physical persuasion.” 

Hanks licked his black and parched lips and then 
said, huskily : 

“ What I wants is this ” 

“ You must go,” cried Ross, with a growl. 

Take your hand away, my friend,” exclaimed 
Hook, laying his hand upon the arm of Ross ; “ I know 
that man.” 

“ You ! ” responded Ross, with surprise. 

“Aye — his name is Hanks,” continued Hook; “he 
is a member of the horse dealing fraternity.” 

“ Horse stealing,” thought Ross. 

“ He is harmless in his intentions — a little odd in his 
manner, but very tractable and good-natured, if you 
know how to deal with him. Release him, my friend ; 
I will take him with me. He will come with me.” 

“Will he? ” growled the gipsy, as Ross removed his 
hands from him. 

Hook sidled up to him, and whispered two words in 
his ear. The effect was magical. Hanks turned his 
black eyes upon him and said : 

“What! is it you, sir? All right — I’ll go with you 
— anywhere you like.” Then lie turned to Ross, and 


142 


A woman’s eevenge. 


said, “ Good-day, Mr. ^lustarcli ; you’ll be sorry for this, 
you know. You’ll want me to go stealing for you again, 
won’t you ; you’ll catch me doing it — you will.” 

So saying he turned to follow Hook out of the 
room. 

Ross went slowly after him. As they descended 
the stairs the eyes of Hanks turned mechanically on 
Ross, and with no little surprise he saw him place 
his finger on his lips, and point to Hook, who was 
in advance, and extend the fingers of both hands per- 
pendicularly, while he whispered hastily — “ To-night.” 

Hanks, very shrewd and extremely sharp, understood 
the motions, and nodded. 

“ So it’s all right, after all,” he thought ; “ only I’ve 
come at the wrong time.” 

He went on after Hook, and Ross returned into the 
room. 

“ I am afraid you have been alarmed,” he exclaimed, 
when he saw Mildred sitting with a placid aspect. 

She replied in the negative^ but she believed that 
she had been enlightened so far as to feel sure that 
there was some dealings between Hanks and Ross, 
which the latter disowned only in her presence ; and 
therefore it was important that she should know what 
they were. 

She did not seek to ascertain by putting a question 
respecting it ; she only said : 

“ Professions are cheap, and to me valueless. I make 
no imputations, I simply give you a serious warning to 
be true to my service. You do not know the conse- 
quence which will follow and proved double-dealing on 
your part; I do. I therefore caution you. Fare- 
well.” 

He took her extended hand, and would have raised 


A woman’s revenge. 


143 


it to his lips, but she snatched it away. He would 
have attended her to the street, but she forbade him, 
saying, “ Remain where you are ; as I came, so will I 
depart — alone.” 

She left the room, closing the door, and Ross flung 
himself into a chair. 

He wiped the perspiration from his face. 

“What an infernal dilemma to be placed in I” he 
muttered. “ What a jackass that fellow Hanks must 
be I He understood me at last, though ; and if he 
does not wag his tongue too^ freely with Hook Flint, 
I may be master of the situation yet. But then my 
Hook has such a way; he is such a cunning, artful 
insinuating infant, he’d wheedle a beef-bone from a 
hungry tiger’s claw, he — what ! Hook so soon back ! ” 
he exclaimed, starting up as he suddenly became con- 
scious of the presence of the “ insinuating infant ” in 
the room ; and further, that he was attentively re- 
garding the workings of Ins features. 

“ Soon back,” repeated Hook, iterating Ross’swords. 
“ Nothing stylish in Jim Hanks’ exterior. To be seen 
with such a companion is not to impress people with a 
notion that you are select in your acquaintance, or 
with a belief that you are not one of the flock in 
different clothing.” 

“Intelligent offspring! You tamed the brute with 
admirable ease. What had he to say for himself? ” 

“ Well, he had no reserve,” answered Hook. 

“No reserve !” repeated Ross, disconcerted. Then 
he laughed. “ Perhaps,” he said, “ it would have been 
better if he had. Anything a fellow would say, in the 
first place you could not believe ; in the second, it 
would be of a character you would not be overjoyed to 
listen to.” 


144 


A woman’s revenge. 


“ It was about you.” 

“ About me ? ” 

“ He was lamenting that little affair did not come off 
as you designed it.” 

“ Oh — the little affair ? ” 

“ Yes ; clever trick of yours to disown the man before 
the lady. She is of course ” 

Hook made a peculiar gesture. 

Ross nodded assent. 

“ Ha ! ha! ” laughed Hook. “ It would never have 
done to let her know, would it — eh ? ” 

Ross was puzzled. He wondered how much Hook 
really did know of the truth. 

“Don’t like Jesse Lings, I hear?” continued Hook, 
peering at Ross beneath his brows. 

“Jesse Lings ? ” 

“ Oh yes ; I know — can’t deceive me. You have 
been down to pay a visit about the boy — you know. 
Ho, ho ! It won’t pay you, Oscar Ross, to play tricks 
with me: I am your colleague — your partner in this 
little affair.” 

“ Curse the little affair I ” roared Ross, in a rage. 
“ What do you mean by little affair ? Speak out, and 
in plain language. Tell me fairly and openly if you 
have any charge to make, and make it. I will reply to 
it as I think proper, pay you for what service you 
have done, and discharge you — don’t you understand 
— discharge you ” 

“You are a bold rogue, Oscar Ross, and I like you 
the better for it,” Hook said, in a tone which did not 
harmonize with the words. “ Take your own way ; 
I can’t quarrel with you , I am your humble servant.” 

The pear was not ripe enough for Hook yet. 


A woman’s kevenge. 145 

Ross looked at him with scrutinizing eyes, and 
said, sharply : 

“ What had Hanks to tell you ? ” 

“ Never mind now ; let it go. I was upset at first 
— but there — say no more about it.” 

“ He knows nothing yet,” thought Oscar. 

Then he said : 

“Let me remind you of a piece of indiscretion on 
your part, my friend. You have several times called 
me Oscar Ross. I am Major De Montrose. I must be 
known to everybody by that name.” 

“ I have only used your name in speaking to you,” 
exclaimed Hook, quickly. 

“Yes, but there may be eavesdroppers; how do I 
know but you styled me Oscar Ross to that fellow, 
Hanks? ” 

“Never — no,” responded Hook, quickly; “you 
know me better than that. Hanks talked — I listened.” 

“ All is right so far then,” thought Oscar. 

Drawing out a cigar, and lighting it, he said, as he 
commenced to smoke : 

“ Now, Hook, my president of mimics, to what spe- 
cial piece of self-interest may I attribute the honor of 
your visit? ” 

“Well, I had to come uptown on business, and I 
had not seen nor heard anything of you for a week: 
I wished to know how things were progressing, and 
when I shall be required more actively to^ commence 
operations. I wish you had introduced me to that 
lady — beautiful creature, fine woman. What flashing 
eyes ! ” 

“ Flashing ! ” 

“Well, my friend, reading, searching, close-examin- 
ing eyes — eh ! ” 


146 


A woman’s revenge. 


“Yes.” 

“ Fortunate thing Fan did not drop in and see her 
here ; the little fool would have been jealous.” 

Oscar nearly dropped his cigar. “Fan! What do 
you mean ? Fan has never been here, and is not likely 
to come here, I imagine ; if she did, what the devil 
has the presence of a lady here to do with her jeal- 
ousy ? ” 

“ Bah I Oscar Ross ” 

“ Major De Montrose ! ” 

“Well, Major — you must have observed the little 
idiot is taking a horrible fancy to you.” 

“To me! ridiculous! quite the contrary. When J 
first made my appearance for a letter, as you know, at 
your palace of industry, the moment I attempted to 
be civil to her, she dealt me a blow sufficient to fell an 
ox. Not much fondness in that, I conceive, O father 
of a vixen ! as a Turk would say.” 

“ Yes, but she used to attend on you, you know, and 
the fact is, Ross — a — Major, you were alwa3^s a desper- 
ate lover of the fair sex ; you can’t help speaking to 
them as if you were making love, and 3^oung creatures 
are very credulous, and quickly believe what they wish 
to be true. When you dropped 3^our dingy garments, 
and came forth a gentleman of leisure, poor fool ! she 
goes sighing about, and does not know half the time 
what she is doing.” 

“ On my account ! You were never more mistaken. 
Hook. Please change the subject ; you wrong her, and 
rather annoy me.” 

“I am right, nevertheless. M3^ old woman has told 
me so, and she knows.” 

“ Your old woman — who is she ? ” 


A woman’s revenge. 


147 


“ My right hand — Meg ; clever creature — faithful — 
very useful.” 

“ What ! that grandmother of the Mohawks ? Hook, 
what is your object in introducing this subject ? ” 

“ Reason ? none. I mentioned it, merely to let you 
know that I am acquainted with the girl’s foolish fancy, 
and conviction that you will never attempt to take ad- 
vantage of it.” 

Hook uttered the last words with an emphasis of so 
peculiar a kind, and an expression so terribly murder- 
ous upon his cadaverous features, that Ross drew forth 
volumes of smoke from his cigar, and let it play about 
his own features, to hide the embarrassed, confused ex- 
pression that he knew they wore. 

“ He has a design in this,” thought he. “ I would 
stake my life on Fan’s preservation of her secret ; I 
shall take refuge in the safest of all retreats — silence.” 

Hook Flint now cautiously let drop that he had seen 
Whitney Burdell since their joint visit to the mansion 
in Fifth Avenue, and explained that having given Mr. 
Burdell a card, upon which he had penciled an address 
in the event of his desiring to communicate with him, 
a letter had reached him, saying that he would like to 
confer with him upon a point which had been over- 
looked at their last interview, but was necessary to 
discuss before they met at the period already arranged. 
“ I called here for you on my way there,’’ he continued, 
with a gibing grin on his face i “ but your highly re- 
spectable, though slightly talkative landlady informed 
me that you had been out ‘ some days ’ and she thought 
it probable that you would not return for ‘some 
days.’ ’' 

“ Bah ! she is a fool. But Whitney Burdell, what 
did he want with you ? ” 


148 


A woman’s kevenge. 


‘‘ Oh, a mere piece of foolish repetition respecting 
the old man Burdell who has charge of the boy, and 
to add that he has some connection with a tribe of gip- 
sies who roam over the country ; that it would be of 
the greatest importance not to let any attempt to carry 
off the child come to their knowledge, as the certain 
death of the individual who obtained possession of him 
would be the result.” 

“ Did he explain the nature of the connection be- 
tween old Burdell and the gipsies ? ” 

“ He hinted that he knew ; but as he did not offer to 
explain — and he is infernally proud — I thought it pol- 
itic to ask nothing further about it. He urged an im- 
mediate attempt to get the boy ; so I should say, if 
you can be ready next week ” 

“ Next week I ” 

“ Yes — not before. It will be quite impossible for 
me to join you earlier — I have a most important mat- 
ter to attend to — but next week I am your man.” 

He intended paying Jesse Lings a visit the next day, 
to try what he could do toward obtaining the posses- 
sion of the boy. He was now quite aware of the value 
of the prize, and he quite intended to have sole posses- 
sion of it if possible. 

Oscar Ross had no desire to stir earlier in the matter. 
Much Avould depend upon his interview that night with 
Hanks, and he felt quite certain under existing circum- 
stances no step would be advantageously taken unless 
with the counsel and assistance of the man Hanks. 
He therefore appeared reluctantly to acquiesce in the 
proposition made by Hook, though he informed him 
that she who employed them knew of the boy’s exist- 
ence — that he was of more value in her hands, and 
through her to them — than if they obtained him for 


A woman’s revenge. 


149 


Mr. Whitney Falcon Burdell. It was their task to 
cajole him, and serve her, and she had been, he said, 
urging him on to effect the immediate possession of the 
child Harold. 

“ However,” observed Ross, with an assumed tone, 
“ I can do no good without you in it, so I must wait.” 

“ Two heads are better than one — so you will find.” 

Ross seemed not to notice the allusion, but said : 

“ Was Mrs. Burdell visible when you were there ? ” 

“No; I am thankful to say. She read your thoughts, 
and she seemed to turn over page after page of my 
every day book, when we dined there, so that I felt it 
quite a relief not to meet with her.” 

“ I must see her, and alone,” said Ross, with empha- 
sis. 

“ That can be easily done,” remarked Hook, with a 
grin. 

“How?” 

“Simply this. I suggested a call with you upon Mr. 
Burdell on Friday next, but he said no, not on that 
day, as himself and daughter would visit a relative in 
the country whom Mrs. Burdell did not meet, and 
therefore she would be alone at their house on Fifth 
Avenue that day.” 

“ I will be there,” said Ross, with decision. 

“ As I shall be engaged very closely for the next few 
days, I would much rather, unless anything requiring 
my co-operation calls for me, you do not communicate 
with me during my absence.” 

“ Going far ? ” said Ross, carelessly. 

“ Only a few miles,” observed Hook, thrown off his 
guard ; “ but you know, my friend, that it costs me 
some trouble to secure a bargain.” 

“ He is going away on a particular enterprise,” 


150 


A woman's revenge. 


thought Ross. “I’ll pay my tender little Fan a visit 
while he is away.” 

A few more words passed between them, and then 
Hook departed, secretly determining to have an inter- 
view with Mildred Dupont. He knew her address, he 
guessed shrewdly her character, and was quite conscious 
that he would have to play his cards with exceeding 
discretion ; but he wished to be a principal in the great 
game he knew to be playing, and not a subordinate, 
and felt that he was far more fitted for the post that 
Oscar Ross now filled ; and if artifice and cunning 
sagacity could obtain it, he would have it. 

Oscar sat alone when he was gone, and forming a 
resolution to seek Fan once more, engaged himself in 
devising an excuse for visiting his friend’s establish- 
ment the next day, or the day after, providing he found 
Hook at home when he called, when his ear caught a 
gentle tap at his door. There was something peculiar 
in the sound which caused him to rise and open it. 

There stood Fan — Hook Flint’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XV. 

The morning after the ball, Wilton Granger’s servant 
announced to him that his carriage was at the door ; 
and after completing his toilet and displaying a slight 
hesitation in his choice of hat and gloves, he went out 
for a drive, intending to leave his card at the residence 
of Miss Montrose. 

Among those who had fastened a matrimonially 
speculative eye upon him was Mr. Whitney Burdell; 
his daughter Dottie was at a marriageable age, and a 


A WOMAN^S revenge. 151 

union between her and Wilton Granger, for many 
reasons would be singularly advantageous to him. 

This aim was the secret of his ready acquiescence to 
the frequent appearance of Mrs. Burdell at numerous 
fashionable assemblies. Wilton was invited everywhere : 
Mrs. Burdell and Dottie were also invited and would 
scarcely fail to meet Wilton at many places. Whitney 
Burdell had faith in his daughter’s personal attractions ; 
and though he would not for all he might possibly gain 
in accomplishing the wished-for result have it thought 
that he lent himself to scheming for a husband for his 
daughter, still lie shut his eyes to the known fact that 
it was dangerous for a girl at all impressionable to be 
thrown in contact with the heir to millions ; and he 
dropped hints to his wife that he should approve of the 
friendship of Wilton Granger, with whom personally he 
was as yet not acquainted. 

Mrs. Burdell detected through the flimsy covering 
his real purpose, and as much as possible kept Dottie 
out of Wilton’s way ; while Whitney Burdell prema- 
turely confided to one or two intimates, who confided to 
others his expectation that Wilton would probably if 
he, Whitney Burdell, interposed no obstacle, become 
his son-in law. 

Mrs. Burdell despised Wilton, and threw Dottie into 
the society of Roderick D’Olier. The result of this 
manoeuvering was, that Dottie, as Mrs. Burdell wished, 
fell in love with Roderick D’Olier. 

Wilton Granger halted, according to the programme 
he had arranged of his day’s movements, at the door 
of the D’Olier’s residence, and was ushered into a room 
where he found Ora alone. 

“ Roderick has gone out to pay a morning call, but 
he will be back soon, he told me as he went away.” 


152 


A woman’s kevenge. 


“ I have rather a special motive for seeing him. Will 
I be encroaching upon your amiability if I ask you to 
permit me to remain until his return?” he inquired, in 
his most captivating tone. 

“I will be more pleased than otherwise, for I am in 
want of a companion, if it is only to keep my thoughts 
free.” 

He looked at her face keenly for an instant, and then 
said : 

“ When our thoughts are shackled. Miss Ora, it 
usually happens that our hearts are in bondage.” 

“It is not my case to-day, so if it pleases you we will 
change the subject. What do you think of Miss 
Montrose ? ” 

He cast his eyes about the room, and then at the 
doorway. Bending near to her, he said in a low, ex- 
quisitely-modulated tone * 

“ Why do you not ask me. Ora, what I think of 
you ? ” 

A faint tinge of color might have been perceptible 
upon her cheek, but she kept her eyes fixed upon the 
flowers in her hand, and answered : 

“Perhaps I already know — possibly I do not care to 
know, Mr. Granger ; at least it is no answer to my 
question, What do you think of Miss Montrose ? ” 

He bit his lip ; but without changing his manner 
he said : 

“ You are friends, I believe.” 

“ Indeed, I heartily hope so,” she replied. 

“ Then I will give you an answer in the highest 
degree favorable of her,” he returned, with a sarcastic 
laugh. 

“And compliment me in doing so. My brother’s 
horse is at the door,” exclaimed Ora, rising ; “ he will 


A woman’s kevenge. 


153 


join you in a minute or two. Let me thank you, Mr. 
Granger, for having beguiled what w*ould have been 
otherwise a tedious half-hour.” 

“ I am happy,” he said, in a bitter tone, “ in having 
had the opportunity. Miss D’Olier, of affording you 
some amusement.” 

She glided swiftly out of the room. He strode to the 
window. A red flush was on his face, and his eyes 
glittered with rage. 

“What revolution of the wheel is this?” he mut- 
tered. “ Hitherto events have turned out as I could 
wish them, bright and joyous as summer days. What 
clouds are these that threaten ? Ora, you shall be mine ; 
I will not spare you, though your heart breaks beneath 
your sham^. I will make you the finger mark of scorn, 
an outcast from the hearts and the homes of those 
nearest and dearest to you. I will ” 

A hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a pleasant 
voice said, laughingly : 

“ What, soliloquizing ? What fair one is on the tenter- 
hooks awaiting in agony your approbation or dismissal 
—eh?” 

He started, as the guilty ever do, at the sudden 
touch of an unexpected hand, and turning saw at his 
side Roderick D’Olier. He seized his hand and shook it. 

“ My dear Roderick,” he said, “ I am glad to see 
you. I am anxious to have a little chat with j^ou. 
Will you accompany me in a drive?” 

“ With pleasure, Wilton, with pleasure.” 

The two friends descended the stairs together, and 
passed through the hall door to where the carriage 
stood at the curb-stone. 

The groom, a stunted young man, in unexceptionable 
livery, was standing at the head of the horse, holding 


154 


A woman’s eevenge. 


the champing noble animal by the bit. He touched his 
hat as Granger appeared, and then held toward him a 
note. 

“ What is this ? ” cried Granger, angrily. 

“Don’t know, sir. A man gave it to me, and said 
you must have it, as life and death depended on it.” 

Granger snatched it from him, and tore it open. The 
contents were written in a woman’s hand. The char- 
acters, which were elegantly formed, were yet traced 
with a trembling hand. They ran thus : 

“ Wilton, meet me at the old place at three— for the last 
time, if you will ; but you must come, or the consequences 
may be terrible— to you. For myself I neither fear nor care ; 
but, in spite of all that has passed, I wish to save you from 
exposure, disgrace, perhaps worse. If you refuse to keep 
the appointment you will not only have to endure a result as 
fearful as inevitable, but your great and despairing unhappi- 
ness will be added to by the knowledge that you have 
brought the ruin on yourself. S. D.” 

When Granger perused this the first time he 
laughed; the second time he twisted his moustache 
thoughtfully. Then addressing the groom, he said : 

“ Who gave you this ? ” 

“ A man, sir.” 

“No matter,” exclaimed Granger. 

He gathered the reins firmly in his hands, and sprang 
into the carriage. 

“ Let go his head. Flack,” he cried, as the high-met- 
tled horse began to plunge. 

“ Spanker’s very fresh this morning, sir,” shouted 
the groom. The next instant the groom let go the 
horse’s head, and made a flying leap at his one foot 
square monkey-board behind as the horse dashed off. 

As they drove on Roderick tried several times to 
lead the conversation to Grlice, but Wilton diverted it 


A woman’s revenge. 155 

to another topic, and, on the last mention of her name, 
he said, suddenly : 

“ Oh, by the way, Roderick, have I offended your 
amiable sister. Ora ? ” 

“ Offended her ? No ! assuredly not. Why do you 
ask ? ” 

“ Why — it might be fancy, it is true — but it struck 
me while in conversation with her this morning that 
there was a certain coldness ” 

“ Oh — ha I ha ! I see — I see,” cried Roderick, with a 
laugh. “ Do you not comprehend ? ” 

“ Indeed, I do not.” 

“ Why, man, it is simple enoygh. You were advanc- 
ing to Ora last night at the ball to ask her to dance 
with you, when I interposed, and offered to introduce 
you to Miss Montrose. You asked that lady to become 
your partner for the dance — she accepted.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Wilton. “ I see it all now.” 

“Mine!” he mentally ejaculated, “hopelessly, help- 
lessly mine I ” 

They had now reached the open country and Wilton 
commenced to slacken the speed of his horse, to which 
the animal submitted with a very ill grace. As they 
approached Yonkers the road began to ascend, and 
VYilton reined in his horse under a stone wall. 

“ I must get you to hold the reins for me, Roderick, 
for a few minutes,” said he. “ There is a small house 
near here, where I make a call, and ” 

Two men suddenl}'- leaped from behind a massive 
abutment of the old stone wall. One sprang to the 
horse’s head, the other, a well-dressed gentleman, stepped 
up to the carriage, and in a loud and authoritative tone 
said, sternly : 

“ Mr. Wilton Granger ! Dishonorable dastard 1 ” 


166 


A woman’s eevenge. 


“Ha! is it so?” shouted Granger, turning a livid 
white. 

He made a tremendous lash at the horse’s thin-skinned, 
arched, and shining neck, and a rapid succession of 
fierce and violent cuts with his whip at the man who 
clung to the bridle of the leaping horse, which started 
at the sudden and violent attack upon him. Wilton 
repeated his swift blows upon its head, and, impatient 
of all further check or control, it plunged madly, tore 
its bridle from the grip of him who had seized it, 
wheeled round, sprang forward, and dashed down the 
road. 

Flack had been about to dismount when the horse 
fled at his wildest speed, and the extreme suddenness 
with which he did so caused the small groom to lose 
his footing ; but as he still clung to the supporting loops 
of the carriage, he only swung out behind like a tassel 
in the wind. 

For a mile and a half the road was clear. Beyond 
that, at a road-side house, there stood country wagons, 
carriages, carts, and at straggling distances on the road, 
human lives, trembling on the verge of destruction, 
came dashing up, phantom-like, and swept by. 

Then there arose cries, shouting, shrieking, yells, 
running men and boys, horsemen following in chase, 
a terrific crash, a horse flying on alone, and then a 
gathering crowd round the shattered remains of a car- 
riage. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Oscar Ross was certainlj^ surprised at beholding 
Fan standing there. 


A woman’s revenge. 


157 


The poor girl’s face instantly became a bright crim- 
son, but as quickly faded to a death-like paleness, and 
she murmured faintly : 

“ Mr. Ross, do not be offended with me.” 

Oscar, with a hasty exclamation, drew her inside the 
room, closed the door, and turned the key in the lock. 

Fan viewed his proceedings with a look of affright. 

“ Do not misjudge me,” she said, clasping her hands. 

“ Indeed, I do not, my little angel.” He led her to a 
seat, not altogether perfectly at his ease. “ How did 
you contrive to find my address ? I intended to have 
paid you a visit to-morrow or the next day, at your 
father’s house, and then I should have told you my 
address.” 

You promised you would write to the place we 
agreed on ; but I went several times and there was no 
letter for me.” 

“ I have been out of New York and could not or 
dare not write to you. I should either have come 
down to your house in the morning, or the next day.” 

‘‘Do not come to the house unless father is at home, 
unless I send for you ; then as you value your welfare, 
fail not to come, for it will be of the greatest import- 
ance to you.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said he, regarding her with surprise ; then 
lowering his voice almost to a whisper, directing a 
glance at the door : “ Why ? ” 

Fan suddenly rose up, and before he could stop her, 
she walked swiftly to the door, unlocked it, flung 
it wide open, and looked into the hall and down the 
stairs. 

“ Who do you fear ? ” asked Fan. 

“ The individual I am not desiring to see here now 
is your amiable parent. He has just left here ; and 


158 


A woman’s revenge. 


though I fear not ten thousand Hook Flints in refer- 
ence to myself, I do fear one when your happiness is at 
stake.” 

“ I saw him come and I saw him leave,” said Fan, 
calmly. “But he will not come now. He hastened 
on in the direction the lady took. If I am capable of 
reading the expression of his features— and they are 
truthful when he thinks he is alone — then he has gone 
to seek an interview with the lady.” 

“ The devil ! He never would play me such a double 
game.” 

“ He is already acting alone, that I know,, with a 
view to supersede you, and gain the whole of whatever 
reward may be offered for success. There are two 
parties interested, as far as I can learn.” 

“ You ! ” 

“ Even I, Oscar,” she exclaimed, in earnest tones. 

“ What the devil can that be I ” said Oscar, thought- 
fully. “ I am quite aware, from what he let drop to 
me, that he was engaged in some nefarious enterprise, 
but I did not believe that it bore any relation to me.” 

“ It does ; there is some boy who is heir to some 
great property, of which fact he and his friends are 
not cognizant ; and whoever can obtain possession of 
the boy, to secrete him or to produce him, will hold in 
his grasp the key to a large sum in gold.” 

“ How came you to know all this?” 

“ Ask me not, Oscar. I know all this, and more — 
not without extreme hazard. I have gained many of 
his secrets of late — not for myself, but for you. I 
know that I do it at the risk of my life ; but if I can 
serve you, I do not mind the penalty of a death-blow.” 

“My own darling! I would rather be ruined out- 
right or have the death-blow myself than you. Tell me. 


A woman’s eevenge. 


159 


dear, what you’ve discovered ! What does the artful 
old rogue know, and what does he intend to do ? ” 

“ You shall know all at the fitting time, but you 
must leave the revelations entirely at my discretion. 
I came now to tell you in order that you may he pre- 
pared how to act, that to-morrow early, my father 
goes up somewhere in the country — I think I caught 
the name Lings — to try to obtain this boy. Should he 
be successful in getting the boy, he will be brought up 
and placed ” 

She paused. 

“ Where ? ” inquired Oscar, as she continued silent. 

“ I came here to warn you only, and let you know 
that it is, and will be, in my power to serve you in the 
future, to assure you that I will do so ; and all that I 
ask of you is to think of me sometimes kindly, to see 
me occasionally, and to believe always tliat I love you 
truthfully and sincerely ; for I know, Oscar Ross, that 
we can never be more to each other than we are 
now.” 

“ What we may be to each other in days to come, is 
in the hands of fate.” 

“ Hark ! ” suddenly interrupted Ross. “ There is a 
single ring at the street door. Who can it be ? Hush ! ” 
Oscar suddenly lifted the window and looked out. He 
drew his head in very much frightened. 

“Your father. Fan, by all that is unlucky and fatal. 
I felt that the suspicious beast would be back again. 
What’s to be done ? Here — hurry into this room ; there 
is a door in there which opens on to the stairs. While 
we are talking, you can glide down the stairs, and 
slip out of the house. Be silent and speedy, ‘for your 
life will depend on it.” 

“I know it,” she answered; “he would never par- 


160 


A woman’s kevenge. 


don my presence here, and show me no mercy, none. 
Farewell, Oscar.” 

“ Go ! go ! ” cried Ross, as he almost pushed her into 
the room. 

He closed the door behind her, darted to his chair, 
seized up a book ; and as he beheld his room-door 
slowly and noiselessly open, he appeared to be pro- 
foundly occupied in reading. 

“ Aha ! my keen Hook ! ” cried he, as the door re- 
vealed the figure of his cunning colleague. “ Why are 
you back here ? What do you want with me ? ” 

“ A word or two which had escaped me when here 
before,” he said, and his eyes roamed round the room. 

“ Come in and shut the door then,” said Oscar, rising 
and stretching himself. Then he added with a yawn, 
“ Two minutes later, and I should have been out. If 
there is one person whose society I more readily weary 
of than any other, it is my own.” 

“ You have not had much opportunity to-day of 
indulging in it,” Hook exclaimed, still peering around 
the room. 

Ross banged the room door loudly, and said in his ear : 

“ I have an inquisitive landlady, who is very fond 
of knowing all the private affairs of all in the house.” 

“ Quite sure she is not in here ? ” exclaimed Hook, 
suddenly opening the door which Fan had just gone 
through, and sallying into the room. 

A film spread over the eyes of Ross ; he was seized 
with a sudden faintness, and grasped a chair for sup- 
port. He expected to hear a sudden shout from Hook. 
His emotion was but momentary, and by a struggle he 
recovered his self-possession. He followed Hook into 
the room, and taking him by the ear, pulled him out of 
it, and forced him into the chair, 


A woman’s kevenge. 


161 


With a gasp of relief, he saw that Fan had got away 
or was securely hidden — he could not tell which ; it 
was enough for him that she was not there. 

“ Hook, my very deep inquiring philosopher, I can- 
not permit you to pry into the secrets of my dwelling 
house. If my landlady had been there she would have 
had no right to be there ; but the investigation would 
belong rightfully to me, and not to you. You want to 
know a little too much about me, I fancy, my — Hook ! 

“ I don’t want to offend you,” exclaimed Hook, rather 
obsequiously ; and pushed his chair suddenly, so that 
he could see out of the window into the street. 

“You expect, I presume,” he said, after a moment’s 
pause, “ to see Hanks again ? ” 

“ I do, to-night.” 

“ Well, I want to see him too,” said Hook. 

“Wait here long enough and you will see him,” re- 
turned Ross coolly. “ If you won’t do that — you know 
where you left him — go to him.” 

“ I’ll go to him,” responded Hook, as if with a sudden 
determination. “ Good-night, friend Ross.” 

“ Farewell, prince of plotters, until we meet again.” 

Ross sat down, and laughed with joy at his release 
from a complication of difficulties, although it was tem- 
porary. He was rejoiced at the departure of Mildred, 
overjoyed at the escape of Fan, and now the determin- 
ation to seek Hanks which Hook had formed, proved 
an intense relief. 

A few thoughts about Fan, some half-formed inten- 
tions respecting Grace, a sudden recollection of Nan 
Lings, about whom he made a note in his pocket-book, 
and he started out to seek Hanks too. 

Of the two searchers for that interesting personage, 
he was alone successful ; but he found that it would be 
11 


162 A woman’s revenge. 

ill vain in the man’s state of intoxication to do any 
business with him. He contented himself with suggest- 
ing to Hanks that he should make as great change in his 
exterior as he possibly could, and then quite free from 
the influence of liquor, meet him at a place he named 
at the end of three days. 

Ross next directed his steps down -town to the gen- 
eral postofflce, and inquired for any letters which 
might be there awaiting the arrival of Mr. Jack Duke. 
One was handed him. He hastened to a dark corner 
of the large building, and tore the letter open as he 
muttered : “ It is from Nan ! ” 

As he was about to examine its contents, it was sud- 
denly snatched out of his hand. 

With a furious gesture, he was about to fasten on 
the person guilty of this insolent rudeness, when he 
perceived the writer of the letter before him. 

“ Nan ! ” he cried, in thunder-stricken tones. 

“Even Nan,” she exclaimed. “I wish to speak to 
you, earnestly, and alone ; but you must take me some- 
where known only to yourself, for there is murder on 
my heels, and it is after you. Quick, man, if you would 
not be struck down with a knife where you stand ! ” 

For an instant Ross was paralyzed. Then with a 
sudden thought he seized hold of her hand. 

“ This way, this way. I will conduct you where we 
can be alone, and where we are not likely to be 
tracked.” 

As he said this he hurried with her out of the post- 
office, and crossed Park Row and down the byway to- 
ward the river front. 


A woman's revenge. 


163 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Hook Flint had been anxious for a few words with 
Hanks, the night before he left New York for the 
neighbprhood of Fox Hollow, in order to worm out of 
him — or if not, to wring from him — a piece of informa- 
tion calculated to be of service in the project he had 
formed ; but even his cunning, and all the artifices he 
adopted, failed in obtaining for him the desired inter- 
view. He had, therefore, to depart without it. 

He did not proceed upon his mission as Ross had 
done, for he had no inclination to pay a large sum for 
a piece of work he fancied he could accomplish him- 
self; and it was his intention, if he could help it, to 
suffer no one to know that he had any mission at all 
except to buy goods which could only be sold to such 
men as he. 

Jesse Lings learned from an indirect source that he 
was in his neighborhood long ere he had made his 
appearance before the door of his house ; and not hav- 
ing the slightest supposition that he was bound on a 
visit to him specially, actually sent a message to him, 
urging him to come and see him, as he wanted to make 
a deal with him. Hook Flint assigned a variety of rea- 
sons why he should be excused from complying ; but 
pretended to suffer himself to be persuaded, and he en- 
tered Jesse Lings’ house. 

No one could have supposed from his manner or his 
conversation that he had any covert design ; but if 
Jesse Lings had been aware of the fact, and was bent 
on thwarting him, he could not have avoided it better. 


164 


A woman’s revenge. 


He slept there that night. The next day he found 
Mrs. Lings in the parlor. 

He and Lings had been engaged in the vaults below 
for some time haggling over some bargain, and when 
they had made their appearance, Jesse found his wife 
alone, and in her ordinary attire. 

Jesse exhibited no surprise, but merely said : 

“ Got back, Nan? ” 

“ Yes.” 

Hook peered at her under his eyebrows. She knew 
he was looking at her, but she appeared to take no 
heed of him. Jesse mentioned his name, ’and asked 
her if she didn’t remember him. She replied briefly 
in the affirmative, and in a tone which threw Hook ofp 
his guard, for he interpreted it as displaying the utmost 
indifference to his existence. 

She, after a few commonplace remarks, almost made 
him leap off his seat, by saying to Jesse in a careless 
tone : 

“ Have you heard any more of old Burdell ? ” 

“ Yes ! ” said Jesse. 

Then a silence ensued. 

Never did a cat watch a rat as Nan watched Hook. 
She saw his eyes shine , he sat uneasily in his chair. 

“ The same old people about these parts, I suppose ? ” 

“Yes,” said Jesse. 

“No changes, eh? No fresh importations?” 

“ Had a new one here a little while back, but he 
didn’t stay loUg.” 

“ Ah ! who was he? ” inquired Hook. 

“ Oh, I don’t expect you know’d him — but do you ? a 
a man named Duke ? ” 

“Duke, Duke! I’ve some recollection of one Jack 
Duke ” 


A woman's revenge. 


165 


“ That’s him ! ” exclaimed Lings, slapping his knee. 

Nan remembered with rapidity that Jack Duke, as she 
believed him, spoke of his knowing this man. What if 
the man she loved after all should turn out to be the 
murderer of her brother ! She watched for Hook’s 
further communication with agonized anxiety. 

“ Now,” said Jesse, “ comes a knotty point I should 
like to establish. We had a man down here the other 
day who got himself into a awkward scrape by trying 
to steal away a little child.” 

“ Steal away a little boy. Did he get off with him ? ” 

“ No ; but he got very nearly off his own feet, with 
his neck under the bough of a tree. He called himself 
Duke, flashed plenty of money about, but there was 
parties as said he was no other than Oscar Ross. Now, 
that’s what I want .to know — and you too, for the mat- 
ter o’ that, gal, don’t you ? ” said Jesse, to his wife. 

If silence had cost her her life, she could not have 
spoken. She could only motion with her head. 

Hook was struck by the gleam of her eye as it rested 
on him awaiting his answer. He in an instant detected 
that she had more than a common interest in his reply, 
and it formed a foundation, at least, for a suspicion that 
there was some understanding of perhaps secret char- 
acter between her and his esteemed friend Ross. 

He recollected that Ross had warned him not to let 
Hanks know his real name, and it seemed very proba- 
ble that the injunction extended to others. 

“ I know a person named Duke, too ^ but 1 should 
decidedly say that he and Ross are two distinct men. 
One is a coarse, dissipated looking scamp ^ the other a 
man who dresses well, and has a moustache and 
beard.” 

“Yes, yes,” exclaimed Nan, quickly. 


166 


A woman’s eevenge. 


“Well, I s’pose it’s a mistake,” said Jesse. 

“ To be sure,” exclaimed Nan, with a gesture of con- 
tempt ; “yet every fool among ye all called me obsti- 
nate and mad because I believed the man, and saved 
him from being murdered.” 

“Saved him ! ” said Lings quickly, his eyes lighting 
up like living coals. 

“ Saved him,” she answered, coolly. 

“So it was you who put him through the window, 
eh ? ” said Lings. 

“ And what if it was ? ” she said, looking him in the 
face. 

“ I think you’re too much interested in that quarter,” 
he replied. “ You’d better watch it, or you may have 
to save yourself from murder.” 

She showed her bright white teeth in a scornful 
laugh. 

“From you, Jesse?” she cried. “Never! I am 
quicker-eyed, and mark me, quicker-handed than you.’’ 

She rose up as she spoke, and stalked out of the 
room. Up into her bedroom she went, to look around 
her ill loathing, to sob, to hate herself, the world — to 
long to be away from her home — to be anywhere in the 
wide, wide world so that she were with Jack. 

“I can see it all! Ross hasn’t been down here for 
nothing,” thought Hook, with a gulp, and grated his 
teeth. “My Fan loves this man — oh, but I’ll cure 
her ! ” 

Lings sat staring after his wife with his mouth open ; 
a fiendish glare was in his eyes; and he would have 
followed her, but that Hook, perceiving the devilish 
expression of his face, stopped him, and proposed that 
they should have some brandy together. Jesse agreed 
to this with avidity, and helped himself copiously. 


A woman’s revenge. 


167 


As soon as Hook began to observe him loquacious he 
began quietly to underate his abilities, his skill, and 
his knowledge, or rather his cunning, until he worked 
Jesse up into a highly boastful condition, ready to back 
himself to perform anything, and to possess a greater 
amount of information on all points than any man 
within ten miles around. 

“ Bah ! ” said Hook, jeeringly ; “you are like a great 
many people. You think you know a rare quantity, 
when yoq.know nothing. Why, I asked you if you had 
all the same people here, and you said yes. Why, 
there’s a man I know to have been living here many 
years on the quiet, and he’s gone away.” 

“ Who ? ” said Jesse, quickly. 

“ There ! ” said Hook. “ I thought you knew.” 

“Do you-?” asked Jesse. 

“ Of course I do — old Burdell,” said Hook. 

“ Did you know him ? ” 

“ Ha ! ha ! you know a great deal, don’t you ? ” 

“ I knew he’d gone,” snapped Lings. 

“You know where, of course?” 

“I do,” said Lings. 

“ You don’t. I’ll bet two dollars.” 

“ Do you ? ” inquired Lings, quickly. 

“ Do I ? ” echoed Hook , “ do you suppose I’d offer 
to bet if I didn’t ? I’ll bet you five dollars you don’t.” 

“ All right ; I do,” cried Lings, thrown off his guard. 

“ Stake your money,” exclaimed Hook. 

Lings produced a five-dollar gold piece from a leather 
bag, and laid it down on one Hook had put down. 

“Now then, out with it,” said Hook. 

“New York,” cried Lings, with a laugh, and was 
about to snatch up the two gold pieces; but Hook, as 
quick as a shot, clapped his hand down on them. 


168 


A woman’s revenge. 


“ No you don’t,” he said ; “we all know he’s gone to 
New York. New York is a big place ; but what part 
of New York? because if you don’t tell me, my friend, 
I shall tell you, and rake up the two gold pieces, my 
cunning boy. Quick, or I put them into my pocket.” 

“ No. 74 Commercial Street,” cried Lings. 

“Stop!” said Hook; “that’s very near it, but not 
quite.” 

“ I say that’s the place ; no other,” said Lings. “ I 
tell you that it is ; I won the money I ” he roared, and 
made a grab at the gold. 

“Um! I didn’t think you knew it. I’ve lost. I 
shan’t bet with you any more.” 

Lings whipped up the money and rattled them in his 
hands. 

“ I know’s nothing, I don’t,” he said. “ Purty music ! 
I know’s nothing, I don’t.” 

In the noisy uproarious mirth which Lings indulged 
in, the rustle of a dress and a retreating footstep were 
not heard ; nor half an hour afterward, the departure 
of the shock-headed boy on his way to the village 
postofiQce, with a note to be posted, under a threat of 
of being murdered if he revealed to any one his errand, 
errand. 

Hook appeared suddenly at his own house in New 
York, and found Fan at her post. 

He spoke a few words in seeming kindness to her, 
listened to what she had to tell him, and then retired 
to his sanctum sanctorum. 

Later in the night, Meg, at his request, attended him. 

“ Meg, my woman,” he said, looking up at her with an 
expression in his eyes which always, as she forcibly ex- 


A woman's revenge. 


169 


pressed it, made her “ back open and shut ” ; “I shall 
want you to prepare a room — a bed, for a new guest.” 

“ Go on, sir.” 

“Very good ; now listen, and mind all I say to you. 
I want you to prepare a room for a little boy. I want 
it to be comfortable, but I want it to be more than 
that. I don’t want it to be examined by any eyes but 
yours and mine.” 

“ Very well, sir.” 

****** 

The next morning early, a man dressed as an officer 
of the navy, knocked at the door of No. 74 Commer- 
cial Street. The door was opened by a thin, grubby 
old man. • 

“ I want to see the man of this house,” said the man 
who knocked. 

“ I am the man of this house,” replied the old man. 

“ You have a sailor lodging here? ” 

“No sailor lodging here.” 

“Named Snip ? ” 

“ Nobody named Snip, no such person,” said the old 
man, about to close the door. 

“ Say you have ! ” insisted the man. 

“ Tell you I ain’t,” roared the grubby little man, and 
would have slammed the door, but the stranger sprang 
into the passage. 

Hallo, he-er ! ” cried the old man. 

“ Don’t be ngly,” exclaimed the intruder, “ I must 
search for myself, I’m an officer, here’s my search war- 
rant.” 

He prodiiced, as he spoke, a document, which ap- 
peared to be the proper instrument. 

The little grubby man looked at it, and returned it. 
He believed in it, though he had not read a line. 


170 A woman's bevenge. 

“ He ain’t here,” exclaimed the old man, ‘‘ you’re off 
the scent.” 

“I respect you, but I can’t take your word; I must 
search the premises.” 

“I got only three lodgers in the house, one is ” 

The self-asserted officer stopped the man. 

“No use to waste time,” he said. “ I don’t want to 
disturb anyone. You can accompany me. If the man 
ain’t here, I can’t have him ; if he is, he must come 
with me.” 

He turned the key in the lock as he spoke, and the 
old man, shrugging his shoulders, led the way up-stairs. 

The fake officer examined all the rooms, but found 
no one resembling the per^son he sought ; and with a 
cross look, descended the stairs again. 

“Told you so,” said the old man. 

“ Ain’t finished yet,” said his companion. “ You 
have underground apartments?” 

“ No — not a soul — nobody in them. I tell you not a 
soul ; I «ay there ain’t nobody in them,” said the old 
man, placing himself before his unwelcome guest. 

“ Don’t interfere with me in my duty, or I’ll arrest 
you,” he cried fiercely, as he swung the old man around. 

He ran lightly down the stairs, and opened what 
appeared to be a kitchen door. It disclosed to his view 
four men, one in height towering very much above 
the rest. They were seated in earnest conversation 
when the door abruptly opened , but they sprang to 
their feet, and bent fierce looks upon the intruder. 

His keen eyes ran swiftly round the room. 

“ I’m on the scent now,” he thought. 

Looking in the face of each man, he shook his head. 

“ Don’t disturb yourselves, gentlemen,” he said, “ I 
don’t see among you the man I want.” 


A woman’s kevenge. 


171 


He turned and quitted the place ; their glittering 
eyes turned in mystified and anxious inquiry upon 
him. 

He proceeded to a door which, at the end of a small 
passage, seemed only to lead out to the back premises. 
He tried it ; it was fastened. 

“ Open it,” he said, to the old man. 

“Nothing out there,” cried the old man. 

“ You told me just now there was not a soul down 
here. Open the door, or I’ll bi’eak it open.” 

“ Hi ! you can’t want anything there, you know,” 
cried a rough voice in his ear. A hand was laid for- 
cibly upon his shoulder ; he shook it off, and turned 
round. The tall man was before him, looking on him 
with savage eyes. 

He had an officer’s club, and held it up to the big 
fellow, at the same time a conviction filling his mind 
that he was approaching the object of his search. 

“ Don’t you poke your nose between me and my duty, 
Mr. Gipsy Swift Lane,” he said, sharply. “ If you 
don’t know me, I do you ; I am a detective officer and 
I want a runaway seaman. I don’t want you yet. I 
don’t know how soon your presence may be asked for; 
when it is I shall call upon you. But take a word of 
caution from me and keep clear of me and my brace- 
lets.” 

Taken aback, his suspicions disarmed, the gipsy only 
growled out, “if he wanted a sailor only, that was 
another tiling;” but he kept close to the bogus officer. 
Then the old man, drawing a key from his pocket, 
opened the door, and he passed out with him on to an 
old wharf, which seemed to be used only to receive in 
accumulated heaps rusty iron articles, which having 
fulfilled the purposes for which they were originally 


172 


A woman’s revenge. 


constructed, now were awaiting to be removed, to 
undergo some transformation known only to a select 
few. 

At the end of this wharf, up in a corner abutment, 
was an old, much dilapidated brick wall, its face over- 
looking the river, and rising flush with the wharf side, 
was an oblong wooden house. Originally it had been 
a series of counting-houses, with a suite of rooms 
above ; now it appeared from a cursory glance, to be 
disused. 

“Nobody there?” said the officer. 

“ Why — ahem ! — ^yes ; there’s a small family there, 
but no sailor,” said the old man. 

The man quickened his step. The gipsy touched 
him on the arm. 

“ Can’t you believe the man ?” he exclaimed, rather 
viciously. “ I say there’s no seaman there, and I’ll take 
my oath on it.” 

“ Ho ! ho ! your oath ! ” laughed the officer. “ I don’t 
want to inconvenience any one if I can help it,” he 
said, “ but T must do my duty.” 

“ I tell you you’ll only find a small family there — 
don’t go to frighten them.” 

“ I shall not be with them two seconds,” was the 
reply, “ if Tom Snips isn’t hidden there.” 

The gipsy now approached the door and gave a sig- 
nal knock with his knuckles. 

The door slowly opened for a small space and the 
face of a gipsy woman obtruded through the narrow 
opening. 

“ All right, Zulie,” exclaimed the gipsy ; “just cornin’ 
in to look around. The gentleman comes to inspect 
the premises for a minute.” 

Zulie with a distrustful and exceeding reluctant air. 


A woman’s revenge. 


178 


opened the door, and admitted them ; but she kept her 
eye on the “gentleman” with a pertinacity which troub- 
led him. 

He grinned in her face. 

“ Know me again ? ” he said, sharply. 

No one was below, and the party ascended the stairs, 
Zulie moving forward and occupying the place of the 
gipsy close to the elbow of the intruder. 

The first room above contained an elderly man, a 
young dark-haired girl, and a pale-faced boy. The offi- 
cer under the inspection of three pairs of glaring eyes, 
merely touched his hat with a semblance of respect, 
and said to the elderly man : 

“ Sorry to intrude ; your friend will explain the cause 
of my visit.” 

He glanced immediately round the room, entered the 
next which overlooked the river, threw up the win- 
dows, looked out upon the dark waters below, made a 
swift inspection of the rooms, and returned to the room 
where yet sat the elderly man, the young girl and boy. 

He took apparently no notice of them, and passed 
out with the grubby old man close on to his heels, and as 
he took his departure, he said : 

“ Somebody’s got a spite against you, and they have 
thrown me off the scent.” 

“ Told you so,” exclaimed the grubby old man, rub- 
bing his hands, glad to think the officer had been done. 
• “I’m off for Water Street, or thereabouts,” said the 
officer. ♦ 

A minute more, and the officer might have been seen 
hurrying at great speed toward the east side of the 
city. 

Within two hours of that time, a boat dropped slowly 
down ,the river, rowed by a man in a sailor’s dress. 


174 


A woman’s eevenge. 


He brought it up within two or three wharfs of the one 
visited that morning by the presumed detective officer. 
He made it fast, and then began putting it in order, as 
if expecting a passenger ; but he always kept a glance 
upon the oblong house! When he had completed a task 
lazily done, he stretched himself at full length, with 
his face leaning on his folded arms, which rested on the 
stern of the boat ; his eyes half covered by the lids, 
always fastened with catlike patience and immobility 
upon the oblong wooden house. 

Night gradually drew on. The man was yet there. 
Lights glittered on the mast-heads from the bows and 
the cabin-windows of passing steam vessels, and along 
the banks of the river. 

The man in the boat never changed his position, nor 
took his eyes from the wooden building. 

The tide rose and swept upwards. The beat of the 
paddle wheels, the creak of swinging straining vessels, 
and the surging of the water, were the sounds alone 
heard. 

When the darkness had so increased that objects 
at a comparatively short distance could not be per- 
ceived, another boat pulled up to the one which con- 
tained the solitary man. 

“ Hold on ! ” said a rough voice, in a low tone ; 
“ hold water hard.” 

The two boats were alongside of each other. 

A few words were exchanged, and three men who 
were in the boat which had arrived^ as passengers, now 
joined the solitary boatman. The waterman who had 
brought them then pulled his boat swiftly away, and 
was soon lost in the darkness. 

As soon as they were alone, the man who had 


A woman’s revenge. 175 

passed a lonely vigil the whole day, said to one of his 
companions in a whisper : 

“ When do you go away?” 

“ Next tide. It will be high water at two o’clock.” 

“That will do,” responded the man. 

The boat was cast off, and with noiseless movement 
brought beneath the wall of the wharf the boatman 
had been watching the whole day. 

Two of the men stealthily quitted the boat, crawled 
on the wharf, and darted into one of the sheds, the 
position of which had been pointed out to them. 

Then all remained as silent as the grave. Suddenly 
the door of the house opened, and a woman came out. 
She walked with quiet step along the edge of the 
wharf its whole length, passed the boat just under her 
eyes, and did not see it. 

“ The air is cool,” she said to herself, in a low tone. 
“ The racing tide makes it fresh and moist ; it will 
do the Chuck good. He is weak. I’ll fetch him out j 
there’s nobody about.” 

Not a word was lost. The heart of one of the 
men in the boat at least beat quickly. 

Zulie — for she it was — put her head outside the 
door ; she glanced round, and then she advanced, fol- 
lowed by a young girl supporting with her arm the del- 
icate boy. 

They walked up and down slowly. 

“ Harold,” said Flora, “ wouldn’t you like Zulie to 
bring us out chairs, and we sit with our backs to the 
water and face the house. You know, Harold, we have 
been confined to the house all day ; shall we not sit out 
here a little while ? ” 

“Yes,” said the boy. “Where is Grandpa Bur- 
dell?” 


176 


A woman’s eevenge. 


“ In liis chair asleep,” answered Flora. “ You do not 
want him, do 3^ou ? ” 

“ To sit with us,” returned the boy. 

“When he wakes he will, dear Harold,” answered 
Flora. “ Kind Zulie will bring the chairs for us now, 
will she not ? ” 

“Ay! will she,” replied the gipsy; “and if grandpa 
wakes he shall come here too.” 

As she approached the door three shadows fell upon 
them ; Zulie received a tremendous blow behind the 
ear, which felled her insensible to the ground. The 
next moment a cloth was tlirown over the girl ; she 
and the boy were whipped up and handed over the 
dock into the boat. The boy uttered a terrified wail, . 
but the man who held him, placed his hard, horny 
hand over his mouth, and the boat pushed ofip. 

The oars were tossed out, and the two men com- 
menced pulling the boat with their utmost strength. 

“ Give way! ” cried a voice, in a low earnest tone ; 
the men obeyed with a will. 

Swiftly their boat darted down-river and was made 
to hug the shore until it came to a quiet landing. Three 
of the men landed and taking up the bo}" and girl 
hurried up the street, placing them in a close carriage 
at the corner of a dark street ; both the girl and boy 
had fainted. 

When the carriage stopped near the corner of a 
street the coachman jumped down; well acquainted 
with his work, he raised a trap door over which unsus- 
pecting persons walked in daytime. 

He hurried to the carriage, and the man inside 
passed into his arms the 3^et senseless Flora. 

“ By hokey pokey ! ” ejaculated the man, in a tone 
of fright; “its a body,” 


A woman's eevenge. 


177 


“Fool!” hissed his employer through his teeth; 
“it’s my daughter, Fan ; carry her down.” 

The man obeyed, and his companions followed. 
When below, among bales and packages, the coachman 
deposited his burden, and springing up the ladder, 
closed the trap and drove away. 

Another instant the intense darkness was broken 
by an advancing light, and the man who stood there 
cried in exulting tone : 

“ Quick — quick, Meg, my woman I take in your arms 
my prize, my fortune, my goldmine. Hook Flint has 
tricked them all.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

“ Grace, you ruffle my temper sadly when I hear 
you persist in harping on the old strain. You must 
not — you shall not continue so. You must leave this 
place, and at once.” 

“ When you please,” replied Grace, calmly. “ To go 
— where, I care not, so that it be not to appear in the 
society with which jou mix.” 

Mildred gave a smile of derision, or disdain — Grace 
could not say which — but she felt its sting. 

“When I tell you,” said Mildred, in even tones, 
“ that you must remain here, it is to decide a question 
of health, and not of pride ; to make you a proposi- 
tion, to which I imagine you will not object. It is 
this : Milroy is away, will remain away some time ; I, 
likewise, have some pressing business on hand, which 
will take up my time. Now, as you have expressed 
yourself pleased with Falcon Manor and its scenery, it 
occurred to me that you would like to p^-y it a visit, 
12 


178 


A woman’s revenge. 


even though you went there alone. There you will 
obtain what you seem now not to get here — fresh air, 
and pleasant changing scenes to divert your intract- 
able mind from dwelling upon subjects which you 
seem to make a point of rendering unnecessarily pain- 
ful.” 

Falcon Manor ! She had not thought of it; yet what 
a haven of rest it seemed to appear to her the moment 
Mildred named it ! 

The chapel in the plantation of the black pines up- 
rose and presented itself to her mental vision. What 
might she not learn for herself concerning that mys- 
tery? 

If I thought you attached any value to my thanks,” 
she said to her, with affected warmth, “ I would offer 
them to you with sincerity ; but I know you hold them 
of little worth. Still, I thank you. It would not be 
possible for you to have made a proposition which, in 
my present frame of mind, could be so acceptable to 
me.” 

“The carriage shall be at the door at ten to-morrow 
morning. Anticipating your ready assent, I have made 
the necessary arrangements. Your maid will accom- 
pany you. The servants at Falcon Manor have their 
instructions , they will be prepared to receive you and 
to obey your orders. I shall join you there as soon as 
I am at liberty. Until then, farewell ! I, myself, leave 
New York this evening.” 

She bent over Grace and kissed her on the cheek ; 
then she left the room. Grace could not help feeling 
surprised, but she said nothing- She immediately pro- 
ceeded to make the necessary preparations for her 
departure, unable at the same time to help wondering 
wh;it had originated the proposal fov her visit to Fal- 


A woman's revenge. 


179 


con Manor, and why Mildred had so abruptly left New 
York, and alone. 

The next evening she found herself in the old-fash- 
ioned but spacious mansion of Falcon Manor. The 
journey had passed over without incident. 

It w’as not without a feeling of nervous excitement, 
that Grace found herself alone in the room which 
overlooked the plantation of the black pines. She 
stood with her eyes fixed in a settled gaze upon the 
dreary mass of trees, which had obtained for them- 
selves a reputation not ver}^ favorable for miles around. 
Even then she had decided upon penetrating into the 
recesses of that plantation, and to do this previous to 
the appearance of Mildred at Falcon Manor. 

She scarcely changed the fixed attention with which 
she regarded them. If her eyes did for a moment 
wander over other parts of the varied landscape, a 
strange fascination drew them back again to the dismal 
cluster of black pines. 

As the deepening twilight began to close the sur- 
rounding objects in, and to throw into solid masses hill 
and dale, Grace remembered only too vividly the mid- 
night hour passed upon the top of the tower. 

She wondered whether the scene she then beheld 
would be re-enacted. Would the strange figure she 
that night perceived again emerge from the shadows 
of the old house, and flying with swift step across tlie 
open space, dive into the plantation of the dark pines 
and be seen no more ? 

What if she were, when the household was asleep, 
to ascend to the top of the tower and watch —better 
prepared than before to observe — and if the incident 
were repeated, to endeavor to ascertain who really was 
tlie stranger that night ? 


180 


A woman’s eevenge. 


And so passed that day, and others. 

This really could not go on, if she desired to tempt 
the mysteries of the building beneath the gloomy 
pines. Mildred would not be long away, Milroy Fal- 
con might return at any moment. If she did not in- 
tend to lose the only opportunity she might ever have, 
it would be necessary to call forth all her powers of 
endurance and make the attempt. 

She had in the broad daytime visited the room in 
the top of the tower. 

The domestics of Falcon Manor retired early every 
night. They had never seen anything to confirm the 
superstitious fears they entertained, but they had 
rather a wholesome impression that it was better not 
to run the chances of witnessing sights, the mere men- 
tion of which made their blood run cold. So she had 
little to fear from interruption from the living, and she 
laughed away scornfully fancies which presented them- 
selves that she might encounter the supernatural. 

That night she sat up in her sleeping-room, keeping 
her eyes fixed upon her watch, and listening to the 
slow solemn chimes of the tower clock. When the 
hands on the gold dial of the watch pointed to the. 
quarter hour to midnight, she rose up, and taking a 
small lamp, left her apartment. 

With noiseless step she ascended the tower stairs, and 
placed herself where Mildred had stationed her on Nevv' 
Year’s Eve. She set down her lamp where its light 
would be hidden, and then gazed out upon the vast 
space. 

Dark though it was, the moon having sunk an hour 
or more, she could still distinguish the places which 
the snow on a former occasion had made so visible ; 
and her eyes, with eager interest, traced out the spot 


A woman’s kevenge. 


181 


where she had first beheld the dark figure of a man. 
She marked the coarse he then took, and noted the 
spot where he had disappeared. 

Suddenly the hour of midnight boomed from the 
tower clock. She uttered a faint scream. The sound 
smote her ear at an unprepared moment, and she had 
not recovered from its effects when the last note died 
away. 

Still she bent her eyes eagerly upon the park below, 
placing her hand upon her beating heart to still its 
throbbings. Far and near she looked, but all remained 
motionless and silent. No cry rose up to chill her 
blood. No shadow flitted across the park to disturb 
her. 

“ It was Milroy Falcon I saw that night,” she mur- 
mured, to herself. “ Mildred had some remarkable pur- 
pose in bringing me here to see him. She did not 
foresee that he would bring me to the chapel beneath 
the dark pines, nor that he would commence a revela- 
tion which she interrupted by her abrupt and unex- 
pected appearance. I know not how much I may then 
learn,” she continued, thoughtfully. “Alone, and un- 
checked in my researches, who can tell what I may dis- 
cover? It is plain there is no one to interrupt me at 
present — and ” 

She paused, as her eyes fell upon the black figure of 
a man, who seemed to glide from a spot in the vicinity 
of the house. She saw it stop when fronting the tower, 
and there it remained for a few minutes, motionless, as 
though it was regarding the building ; then it moved 
slowly away, and disappeared in the plantation as be- 
fore. 

Her heart seemed to suspend its action while her 
eyes watched the movements of the figure, and then 


182 


A woman’s KEVeNG^J. 


she waited with an emotion of thrilling excitement for 
the wild cry of anguish, that the incident of the former 
night might be wholly enacted again. But time went 
slowly on — and it came not. The tower clock chimed 
the hour of one, and no other sound had fallen upon 
her ear. So she slowly descended from the tower, and 
retired to bed, though not to sleep until dawn peeped 
into her room. 

The day was overcast, but she heeded not that ; and 
after partaking of a light breakfast, she set out to dare 
the perils of her remarkable explorations. 

On she went. Soon she found that she had not the 
clue to the maze, and she wandered down the alleys 
formed by trees stretching in various directions, until 
she felt exhausted and was obliged to seat herself to 
rest. She now resolved to give up the search for that 
day, and to make the endeavor to retrace her steps ; 
deciding on entering by a different -path the following 
day, but not to give up the quest until she had been 
successful. 

As her eyes roamed down the successive vistas formed 
by the tall pine stems, they suddenly rested upon a dark 
object which rose up at the end of one of them. 

Her heart beat rapidly. 

“ It is the place ! ” she ejaculated, and rose up. She 
advanced with light step but swiftly toward it, and 
paused not until she stood before the building. 

She examined the door, and remembering how Milroy 
Falcon unfastened it, followed his example, and with- 
out difficulty removed the bar. The door slowly opened, 
and she peered into the darkness. She could not help 
feeling an emotion of awe as she stepped into the 
gloom ; but she nerved herself to the task she had un- 
dertaken, and went on. It was not until nearly a min- 


A woman’s revengsj. 


183 


ute had elapsed that she could discover the narrow 
winding stairs ; but soon as she perceived them she imme- 
diately approached and descended into the crypt be- 
neath. A few steps and she faced the illuminated win- 
dow, and gazed upon the pale face of her who seemed 
now in wailing accents to cry to her, “ Rernemhey' thou 
that. I am avenged I ” 

Instinctively she drew nearer to the window, her eyes 
fascinated by that pale, smitten face, said to so resemble 
her own. While yet gazing on it, her bosom heaving and 
tears welling to her eyes, the sound of a stealthy foot- 
step descending the circular stairs smote her ears. 

For an instant she was paralyzed. She stood motion- 
less, her face only turned toward the entrance. 

A ray of light, colored by a pale blue pane of the 
stained window, settled on her face, and gave it an un- 
earthly look. 

Another minute, and the form of a man appeared be- 
fore her. She saw his pale face. He started, as his 
eyes encountered her. He appeared awe-stricken. He 
clapped his hands to his temples with a wild cry, then 
over his eyes, as though to shut her out from his sight. 

She was so overcome by surprise, that she was riveted 
to the spot ; and though she strove to speak, she could 
not articulate a word. Suddenly he removed his hands, 
and sunk upon his knees ; he stretched his hands to- 
ward her, apostrophized her in passionate language, as 
though she were a spirit ; and as he proceeded with in- 
tense rapidity, his excitement increased, until in strong 
convulsions he fell at her feet. 


184 


A WOMAN S KE VENGB. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

As Oscar Ross was perfectly satisfied that the bar- 
gain which was to cause Hook Flint some trouble to 
secure was Harold Burclell, and the “ few miles ” ex- 
tended quite as far as Jesse Lings’ door, it was only 
natural that he should possess a little curiosity as to 
the result of his keen friend’s venture. 

Fan had begged him not to make his appearance at 
her father’s house during his absence, and he had 
thought it advisable to comply with the entreaty for 
more than one reason. 

Ever since he had parted with Nan Lings, he had 
felt like one crouching beneath some terrible phantom 
of evil. It was impossible for him to forget her words, 
on parting with him, that she would haunt him ever- 
more while she lived as a spectre. 

He was anxious to hear from Nan. His guilty mind 
conjured up incidents to follow the return of Nan, which 
filled him with apprehension. 

Despite his anxiety, however, he had no conception 
that a note for him was lying at the appointed spot 
nearly as soon as it had arrived. He had made calcula- 
tions, and they were none of them realized. His posi- 
tion was a harassing one. 

When two days had elapsed he went to the postoffice 
and found a letter had been awaiting him two days. 
He tore it open with eager fingers. The contents were 
hurriedly scrawled and misspelt. With no little 
trouble and patience he deciphered the contents, which 
informed him that old Burdell and the boy Harold were 


A woman's revenge. 186 

at the Commercial Docks along the river-front, and that 
Hook Flint was acquainted with the fact. 

Over to the place named in the note he flew. He 
walked up and down, until he landed in the neighbor- 
hood of the docks. As he proceeded through the close 
thoroughfares, he did not notice that his footsteps were 
dogged. Threading his way with the air of one well- 
acquainted with the mazes of the locality, he entered 
a narrow street, formed of dirty-looking houses. Fie 
had not proceeded far, when suddenly he received a 
violent blow under the ear, and fell to the ground 
stunned. 

Scarcely a second elapsed, and the body of Oscar 
Ross was no longer in the street. 

A weaker man than Oscar Ross would have been 
killed by the severe blow he received, but it was only 
enough to keep him in a state of utter unconsciousness 
for some hours. 

He came to a dim sense that he was being shaken 
and jolted in some velricle ; then that the motion ceased, 
and that he was roughly seized, dragged along into 
some place, thrown heavily upon the floor and left 
alone, for the place became as silent as the grave. 
While thus half-aroused from the stupor into which he 
had been thrown, he felt like a man wholly overpow- 
ered and helpless from drink. 

He had a sense that he was surrounded by persons 
unfriendly to hiin ; that he was hauled here and 
dragged there, like a sack of salt; but he had not 
the strength to raise a hand. 

After lying where he had been thrown, undisturbed 
and motionless, for more than an hour, his faintness by 
degrees began to subside, and his dim eyes began to 
discern objects. He found that he could stretch out 


186 ^ A woman’s TvEVEI^GE. 

his arms and legs ; and as he was about to rise, a body 
of water was violently dashed in his face, and threw 
him back. It was repeated ; then a rough cloth was 
rubbed over his face and his mouth forced open and 
some brandy poured down his throat. 

These restoratives had the desired effect. After he 
had by violent efforts escaped from choking, he pressed 
his hands over his eyes; then he removed them, and 
saw standing before him, glaring upon him with burn- 
ing eyes, Swift, Lane old Bfirdell, and Zulie. 

Oscar’s first impulse was to feel for his revolver. 
Swift Lane, with the howl of a famished wolf, yelled : 

“ ’Tain’t there — it’s here ! ” 

He pointed, as he spoke, the polished barrel at the 
head of Ross, the muzzle being within a foot of his 
head. Oscar Ross shrank back. 

“Whar’s the boy?” screamed Zulie. “Whar’sthe 
boy, you unthrottled adder ! ” 

“ Whar’s the boy ? — tell me, wretched villain, what 
you have done with him and my beloved girl ! Speak, 
wretch ! for your life is worth but a few minutes’ 
purchase if you remain silent ! ” exclaimed the old man, 
in excited tones. 

“ Ay, out with it ! ” roared Swift Lane, “ and quickly 
too, or I’ll give you a bullet ! ” 

Oscar cast his eyes sullenly around him, and meas- 
ured with rapid glance his chances of escape. To 
knock the pistol up with a sudden dash, and, in a sharp 
wrestle with Swift, to fling him to the earth, would be 
no difficult task, even weak though he was — for he was 
no mean amateur in the art if flinging a back fall ; — 
but there was Zulie, quick and cat-like. He kneAV 
that she would spring upon him, and bury a knife- 
to the handle in his 1)aLk without compunction or hesi- 


A Woman’s revenge. 


187 


tation. Yet, even if he contrived to elude her murder- 
ous activity, he should not know where to fly. He 
had no conception where he had been brought, or 
what were the means of escape. It seemed he had 
only time to glance his bloodshot eyes around, and sul- 
lenly say, in reply to the question put to him : 

“What boy are you talking about? Do you mean 
the child I paid Hanks to obtain for me ? ” 

“ Of course ! ” yelled Zulie. “ The pet fchuck, whar 
is he ? ” 

“ How do you think I know ? ” roared Ross. “ You 
took him from me, you beldam, didn’t you ? How am I 
to know what game you’d play with him ? ” 

“ Scoundrel, this faithful creature restored him to 
me,” cried old Biirdell; “but you have stolen him 
away since ! ” 

“ I have done nothing of the kind,” cried Ross. 

“ Liar ! ” shrieked Zuliov “ Liar and thief I You, in 
the dark hour of night, you struck me to the earth 
with a blow that almost killed me, and you and your 
fellows scooped off with the bonniest flower that ever 
grew, and the poor girl too ! ” 

“ What, Flora ? ” 

“Oh, you know the name then, do you ?” sneered 
Swift. “ Come, look sharp, and tell us where the boy 
is, or I’ll blow your skull to atoms ! You have had one 
tap, you know.” 

“ Yes,” chimed in Zulie, with a gulping chuckle. 
“ That’s from me.” 

“ I owe that to you, do I, eh ? ” said Ross, turning on 
her a fiery glance. 

“ Will you speak, wretch ! ” thundered old Burdell. 
“ Reveal where you have taken the boy and girl, or I 
leave you to your fate.” 


188 


A woman’s KEVENGE. 


“ It is true, then, that they are gone ? ” 

A roar of execration burst from the lips of the three. 

“ True ! ” screamed Zulie, shaking her bony hand in 
his face. “You know it is, you’ve got them ! Where 
are they ? — that’s all we want you to say.” 

“I ain’t agoin’ to stand any tomfoolery!” roared 
Swift, and pressed the cold muzzle of the pistol against 
Ross’s forehpad. “ Do you feel it ? ” he cried. “If you 
don’t speak at once. I’ll spatter your brains on that 
wall.” 

“ Permit me to suggest,” exclaimed Ross, as he 
coolly raised his hand and removed the barrel from his 
forehead, where it left a red ring, “that the pistol you 
hold in your hand has a hair-trigger, and if it is hand- 
led too roughly there will be no necessity to pull it, as 
it will discharge without as much trouble as you use at 
present.” 

“ So much the worse for you,” said Swift. 

“ Worse still for you,” returned Ross. 

“ Tell me,” cried the old man, “ what are the mo- 
tives which induced you to carry off my boy and girl ? ” 

“ Necessary motives certainly actuated me to get 
Harold Burdell into my possession, and influenced me 
when I employed one of the fraternity to which your 
friends belong to bring him to me.” 

“ You were hired to do the work ? ” said the old man. 

“ Yon are too inquisitive, my elderly friend.” 

“ I repeat, you have been hired for the base and vil- 
lainous work? It is worth your while to choose between 
your life and revealing who has employed you — for 
much as I despise Whitney Falcon Burdell, I gave him 
credit for not descending to a meanness so degrading 
as this.” 

“ Oh,” sneered Ross. 


A woman’s revenge. 


189 


“ As you hope for liberation, state where you have 
coiiYeyed him, and at whose instigation you have acted 
in the foul conspiracy.” 

“ Be you so kind as to listen to me quietly, and 
don’t interrupt me,” returned Ross. “Now, sir, you 
can believe me or not, as you will ; but I am deliver- 
ing myself of truths only when I say that, upon my 
word, I have not set my eyes upon the girl Flora since 
I saw her in your cottage, nor on Harold Burdell since 
he was torn from my arms by a party of persons in a 
woods within an hour after I had purchased him for a 
round sum.” ^ 

“What? ” cried old Burdell and Swift together. 

“ Lies ! all lies ! ” exclaimed Zulie. 

“ Not lies, but facts, you old hag ! ” exclaimed Ross. 
“ I confess to having intended to obtain him once more 
if I could, but I have been forestalled, outwitted, out- 
generaled and swindled. The boy has been kid- 
napped, but not by me ; and I must confess my great 
wonder at the poor young girl being forced away from 
her home and her friends. Why she has been taken, I 
am utterly at a loss to understand.” 

There was something so real and earnest in Ross’s 
utterance of these remarks, that they induced old Bur- 
dell to believe him, though they had no such effect 
upon Swift and Zulie. 

“I’m not to be gammoned, Mr. Jack Duke ” 

“ Ross, I’d swear it if I died the next minute ! ” 
interrupted Zulie, licking her parched lips. 

“ Swear it then, and die ! ” said Ross, fiercely. 

“Be quiet, Zulie,” cried Swift. 

“ Not she,” said Ross, with a savage grin. “ Her 
brimstone’s boiling over, and she must let it run.” 

“ Look a-here man,” cried Swift. “ I have tracked 


190 


A woman’s revenge. 


your boat — where it laid all the day long, where it 
landed when you went down the river with your ill- 
gotten prize — and then I traced you in a cab ; bvit there 
I am at fault, except that I caught you near the spot. 
So, you see, it’s of no use lying to me, for I’ll have the 
secret out of you, or I will blow your brains out and 
fling you into the river that’s flowing under your 
window.” 

“ Truly, you are putting me into possession of valu- 
able information,” replied Ross. “ A boat all day long 
— going down the river at night — landing near where 
yoli took me at a slight advantage, and announced 
your presence in a way I am not going to forget — 
that’s all worth knowing. Now, mark me, my long, 
but not friendly acquaintance, I know nothing of 
the capture of the boy and girl, but what you tell me. 
Nevertheless, that information tells me where they are, 
and who has taken them.” 

All three gazed upon him in great surprise. Was he 
really speaking the truth ? Burdell eyed him sharply. 

“ You swear,” he said, “ that you have had nothing 
to do with the last abduction of ray boy ? ” 

“ I do,” replied Ross. 

“ You add that you have been outgeneraled. Now, 
retaliate upon the man who has swindled you, reveal to 
me the place in which he has secreted them, and I will 
gratify your mercenary motives by a liberal reward.” 

“ Tell — tell I ” champed Zulie. 

“Wait until to-morrow morning,” said Ross, boldly. 

Swift uttered a yell of derision, while Zulie shook 
her knife in the air, and absolutely danced under the 
influence of her wrathful scorn. 

“ Why don’t you ask me to carry you back to where 
I took you from, and then to call on you somewhere 


A woman’s revenge. 


191 


some day next week, to see if you have made up your 
mind ? ” roared Swift. 

“ Peace ! ” said Burdell, in an authoritative tone. 
“I am still disposed to believe you,” he said to Ross, 
*‘and I will give you until to-morrow morning to give 
an answer in the affirmative or negative ; — and if 
against us you must be prepared for the worst re- 
sult.” 

“ Agreed,” said Ross. “ As I decide, so shall I an- 
ticipate the result.” 

“ You will remain locked in here a prisoner until the 
morning,” added the old man ; “ and then I will myself 
come to hear your determination.” 

“And I,” muttered Swift, with a scowl of ferocity. 

“And I,” said Zulie, trying to moisten her hot lips. 

“ I must have something to eat,” cried Jack Ross, 
quickly. 

“ You shall not starve,” quietly responded the old 
man. “ Remember,” he added, “your life hangs on 
your decision.” 

He beckoned Swift and Zulie away, and then quitted 
the room. 

Ross heard them lock the room door on the out- 
side ; and after remaining quiet a short time, he rose 
up, and feeling that he was being watched, paced up 
and down the room. Then he walked carelessly to the 
window, and resting his elbows on the sash, looked 
out. 

The river was before him. It was wide at this 
part, and the tide was racing down, and had about 
three hours to fall. Still, it washed up against the 
base of the building in which he was confined. He 
could swim like a fish, and his mind was made up as 
to the course he should pursue. 


192 


A woman’s kevenge. 


Food was brought in by Swift ; but not a word was 
exchanged between them. He left him, and locked 
the room door on the outside as before. Ross ate 
greedily of the food until satisfied, and then he lay 
down again and fell asleep. 

He- woke up suddenly ; the room was in utter dark- 
ness. He heard a distant church clock strike two. 
He then commenced silently to remove the best por- 
tion of his clothing. 

Three o’clock chimed from the distant clock. He 
rose, and with stealthy step, advanced to the window 
and looked out. It was high water. 

He drew the window up, inch by inch, without a 
sound. Then he mounted on to the sill, and looked 
below. He paused not to reflect, but clasping his 
hands above his head, shot forth and descended into 
the river. 

The sound of his plunge into the water was loud, 
but it died away- quickly ; and presently his head 
emerged from the surface, and his white shoulders 
might be seen above it, while he breasted the stream, 
making boldly for the middle j as he feared to attempt 
to land on either side of the building, because^as soon 
as he was missed a hot search along the shore, up and 
down, was sure to be made for him, and he would 
hardly be given credit for an attempt to swim across 
the river. On he went, swimming across the river fast 
and well; but the tide was strong, the water chill, and 
he had miscalculated his own powers. 

He redoubled his efforts, as he got further out ; but 
gradually he felt as if he was growing paralyzed, and that 
he could not keep afloat much longer. Water began 
to pour into his mouth, and a ringing sound took pos- 
session of his ears. 


A woman’s eevenqe. 


193 


Death was blinding his eyes, death was looming in 
his ears ! Hopeless death ! Despair had seized him, 
when his dim eyes caught sight of a boat, towing at the 
stern of ship which had just passed him. Impelled by 
the swift motion of the vessel, it swayed and brushed 
his face. He with a frenzied last exertion of strength, 
reached up, and caught the gunwale of the boat. To 
have for a second discontinued his desperate efforts 
would have been to slip powerless back into the water, 
and to sink to the bottom like a stone ; he therefore 
continued his almost superhuman efforts, and succeeded 
in crawling in and falling partlj^ across and along the 
bottom of the boat, senseless. 


CHAPTER XX. 

Before Grace could recover from the terror into 
which she had been thrown by the sudden presence of 
a stranger in the crypt, and the amazement created by 
liis earnest address to her, couched in fervent and elo- 
quent language, appealing to her as though she was a 
spirit from another world, he fell convulsed at her feet, 
and remained motionless. Despite the wild tumultuous 
beating of her heart, she still had sufficient nerve left 
to bend over the prostrate form of the intruder. 

His face was pale and wan ; and his features, though 
haggard from care and a long-nourished sorrow, were 
noble in their form and patrician in character. His 
closed eyes and his mouth slightly open, so strongly 
resembled death, that Grace started back horrified ; 
but another glance showed her that it was but insensi- 
bility, and that he Would recover. 

That motionless face strangely affected her, and at- 

13 


194 


A woman’s eevenge. 


tracted her toward him. A sigh burst from her lips. 
Then, like a startled fawn, she fled up the stone steps 
to the place of egress, which was as dark as night. 

The door was closed. She knew not where it was 
situated, and with a choking horror groped round the 
walls, fancying each second as she did so that she 
heard ascending steps in pursuit of her. 

After an anxious search, she found an iron knob, the 
door yielded, and gently and noiselessly it opened to- 
ward her, admitting at once light and air. 

She could hardly repress a cry of delight as she 
darted into the plantation with the swiftness of a doe. 
She hurried through the long alleys, unheeding — in- 
deed, unknowing — the direction she was taking ; but 
she paused not until she found herself close to Falcon 
Manor. She proceeded hastily on, passed round to the 
front of the house, and halted not until secure in her 
own sitting-room. 

For two or three days she did not move out of the 
house ; but then her restlessness overcame other feel- 
ings, and she ventured forth once more. She shrank 
from again attempting to enter the plantation of black 
pines ; nevertheless, she was unable wholly to keep 
away from their precincts. Some invisible power, it 
seemed, impelled her in their direction ; and however 
widely she might at the commencement of her walk in 
the morniiig have diverged from them, she invariably 
soon found herself somewhere in close proximity to 
the gloomy pines. 

A strain of thought one morning wholly absorbed 
her, and removed all surrounding things from her ob- 
servation, as in the deep solitudes of the aged wood 
adjoining the park she moved slowly on. 

Suddenly she was startled, and aroused from her con- 


A wo.man’s kevenge. 


195 


templation by the sound of a human voice, which spoke 
in earnest, frightened tones : 

“ Merciful heaven, support me ! ” 

She raised her eyes, and before her stood transfixed 
in wild amazement, the stranger of the ancient crypt 
beneath the plantation of the black pines. 

Her astonishment at this unexpected apparition was 
heightened by the close resemblance this man bore to 
one of the old portraits which hung in the gallery at 
Falcon Manor. He almost glared upon her with ex- 
tended eyes, and stretching out his hands imploringly, 
said : 

“ If you are mortal and have human charity, speak 
to me ! ” 

“ Your question is a strange one. Pray, sir, who 
and what are you, and why are you here ? ” 

He turned his face and spread his outstretched hands 
upward in fervent adoration. 

“Are you, too, a Falcon ? ” asked Grace. 

He drew himself up and was about to reply ; but as 
though some consideration flashed through his mind, 
he checked himself, and said : 

“ It is needful that I should for the present conceal 
even from you — for it would seem that I should have 
no fear — not only who and what I am, but why I am 
here. I may say, that it is no evil purpose which has 
occasioned my visit. We shall meet again. I will not 
say where or when. I will leave that to circumstances. 
On the next occasion you will probably find me more 
explicit concerning myself than I have been, but the 
time must be more fitting and the object more ripe than 
now. One thing I have to ask of you — it is a strange 
request, perhaps, but it is important to me that it should 
be graivted. It is that you will not volunteer any ac- 


196 


A woman’s revenge. 


count of the meetings which have taken place between 
us. Reserve that for the present. A time may, I hope 
will come, when the revelation may be highly neces- 
sary; but until then, conceal. Hark! I hear a foot- 
step. Farewell, O living resemblance to one dearer to 
me than life itself. We shall meet again.” 

Grace turned away and plunged yet deeper into the 
woods, in a whirl of wonder at this unexpected inter- 
view. She paused not until she had reached the brook, 
and there she seated herself to ponder over what she 
had heard. 

She had not been seated long when she uttered a 
scream of terror, for a hand was lard with a sudden 
pressure upon her shoulder. 

She leaped to her feet, and beheld standing calmly 
and impassively before her, Mildred Dupont. A cold 
smile was on her lips. 

“ Still timid, Grace ! ” she exclaimed. “ Come, let 
us return to the house. You did not expect me ? ” 

“ I was prepared for your return to Falcon Manor at 
any moment.” 

“ Not in the black pines ? ” said Mildred, with a 
taunting smile. 

“Not in the black pines,” repeated Grace, with em- 
phasis. 

“ On my arrival I heard you were out walking. I 
set out in search of you, and saw you walking toward 
the brook. I followed, and observed your actions. I 
was pleased, very pleased to find that contemplation, 
and not idle or weak curiosity, directed your steps.” 

Silence followed this remark until they reached the 
house. 

There was a strange bustle and activity in the house 
which disturbed her, but she attributed it to the arrival 


A woman’s revenge. 


197 


of Mildred. She had reached the centre of the morn- 
ing-room, where her eye caught sight of a figure reclin- 
ing on a couch. 

She turned hastily, and beheld a face pale and wan, 
but with his large dark eyes fixed upon her in stead- 
fast admiration, Wilton Granger. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

After Hook Flint, assisted by Meg, had conducted 
Flora and Harold Burdell to the room prepared for 
them, and had seen them restored to consciousness, he 
retired to his sanctum to cogitate. Assured that he 
was alone, he soliloquized : 

“ Ho ! ho ! mine, mine, mine, under lock and key ! 
Xo one but myself and my faithful Meg knows where 
they are. The seaman I employed has been obliged to 
ship at one hour’s notice to escape the searching in- 
quiries and unwelcome presence of those pests of 
society, detective officers. I am sure of them. Well, 
no one saw us quit the wharf, no one saw us land. 
Lurching Dick, who drove us, didn’t know what he 
carried until the last moment, and then I put him on a 
wrong scent by telling him that it was Fan he held in 
his arms. If he didn’t believe it, he dared not speak. 
And now, with the double prizes in my possession, let 
me consider what is to be done. Whose purse will 
bleed most freely — that of Whitney Falcon Burdell, or 
Miss Mildred Dupont? Let me look at the documents 
again ; they may decide for me.” 

He rose up, and carefully taking out a small bunch 
of keys, went to his iron safe, unlocked it, and from 
among the stores of precious stones therein, drew out 


l9§ A woman’s beyenge. 

the package containing* the papers he had purloined 
from Koss. 

After carefully reading them, he decided to keep both 
Whitne}'' Burdell and Mildred Dupont in negotiation, 
and be governed by circumstances in electing the 
course he should finally adopt. 

He carefully refolded the documents, restored them 
to the iron safe, and proceeded to lock it. 

The keys were gone ! 

It was only with a great exertion of self-control that 
he did not utter a scream of astonishment. 

“ Gone ! gone where ? How gone? Who has taken 
them ? ” 

The blade of a huge knife gleamed in his eyes. He 
caught it up from the table, and taking up his lamp, 
slowly commenced to explore all the parts of his room 
where it was possible for any person to secrete him- 
self. 

All of a sudden his lamp went out. 

“ Who ? who ? ” he hissed, between his teeth, wlfile 
his fingers clutched the hilt of his knife. “ Who — who 
is it? Oh, let me know them, let me know them! ” 

With racking brain and tottering step he searched 
closely over the room, but could find no one within it, 
and he was staggered to find that the key was turned in 
the lock in the door just as it had been by him when he 
first entered the room. 

He sat down and awaited with impatience the coming 
of Meg, and when that aged servant, who had so long 
and faithfully served him, tapped at the door, he let 
her in with unusual eagerness. Having locked the 
door again, he hurried her to the table. Fastening his- 
lurid eyes upon her, he said : 

“ Where’s Fan?” 


A woman’s revenge. 


199 


The old woman uttered an ejaculation of surprise, 
and Hook sharply repeated his question. 

“ Abed,” replied the old woman. 

“ How do you know ? ” inquired Hook, sharply. 

“ Just left her,” said the old woman, turning white. 

“ If she is in bed, what did you want in her room ? ” 
he inquired, sharply. “ Quick, answer quickly — no 
lies, you know ! They won’t do for me ; I always see 
’em as they drop out of your mouth.” 

“ Girl’s hard worked — she ain't well — fretting — no 
mother — always goes into her room — sees her the last 
thing.” 

“ Um I ” grunted Hook. “ Awake, eh? ” 

“No — asleep,” she returned. 

He then told her what had happened. 

“ Ghost ! ” she said, with a shiver. She looked cow- 
eringly around the room. “ I am sure this place is 
haunted,” she added, with a terrified air. 

“ You are an old fool,” he replied. “Now, listen to 
me. There is something wrong in all this. I don’t 
like the appearance of it. My suspicions are roused, 
and you know when once they are roused, it is not 
easy to allay them. If any one has succeeded in ob- 
taining access here, and my distrust at present points 
only to one person, I say let ’em beware ; for if I dis- 
cover them, whoever it may be, who it is, they shall 
die — and that speedily. No weak feeling will stay my 
hand, I will have no mercy.” 

“ Don’t mean me, do you ? ” said Meg, with a gasp. 

“You know well who I mean. Now tell me about 
your new visitors. How did you leave them ? ” 

“ The boy is fretful and peevish, but the gal has got 
sense and courage. She says that she knows that no harm 
is meant to her or the boy, but she thinks it hard that 


200 A woman’s eevenge. 

they should be hidden away in one place and another, 
and made unhappj’' because of the bad ambition of 
wicked people.” 

“ Ahe ! did she say that ? Let them have plenty of 
toys, Meg, and plenty of sweet stuff. Children like 
both. I want, if I can, to deliver him up healthy and 
in ffood condition. Great Scott, if he should die on my 
hands ! ” 


CHAPTER XXir. 

When Oscar Ross had somewhat recovered from 
the effects of his dip in the water, he found the vessel, 
whose boat he was in, had been drawn up alongside of 
a wharf. He had not passed with comparative safety 
through so many desperate dangers during his life, not 
to possess the ability to acaomplish his exit from the 
boat unseen, and succeeded in arriving before daylight 
at his boarding-house. 

Three days later he started out to make discoveries. 
Just as Hook Flint’s store was about to be closed for 
the night, he stood before Fan. 

She started up in affright. She caught him by the 
wrist, and raised her finger warningly. 

“Oh, do not speak, and leave this place instantly! 
Voiir life is in danger ! ” 

“ Bless you, my little cherub. Nevertheless, in spite 
of all the favors he intends me, I must see him. I 
may just as well hang or drown myself if I do not, 
and so save him and everybody else any further trouble 
about me.” 

Raising her finger again, as a signal to impose silence, 
she went on tip-toe to a corner of the store, where there 


A woman’s EEVENGE. 201 

was a large stock of goods, and motioned him to get 
behind them. 

He obeyed with a light step. 

Scarcely a minute passed before he heard Hook 
Flint speaking to her, with a harsh brutality which 
made him open and shut his hands instinctively. 

The store was closed by the man for that purpose ; 
the lights were turned out, and everything around him 
was plunged into profound darkness. 

A few minutes more and he felt a soft hand touch 
his. He placed his left hand upon her shoulder, while 
she held his right. They went along a level space for 
a short distance, then down-stairs, and so into a room. 
She fastened the door, and then lit a light. 

“ Oh, Oscar, my father has said such dreadful things 
of you! Tell me they are not true, that you are 
not ” 

“What?” he whispered, hoarsely, in her ear. 

“ I dare not — oh, I cannot tell you such dreadful 
words.” 

“What Hook Flint may say or has said of me, I 
personally hold in scorn ; yet. Fan, he may have spoken 
much that is true. I have been no angel; and were 
you to know my true history, you would. Fan — as I 
have no doubt you have been directed by him to do — 
shun me. Understand this one thing. Fan. T have 
told you many times I love you , yet those words, so 
serious in their import, were said by me lightly, and 
without reflection.” 

She would have shrunk from him, but he held her 
fast. 

“ But I love you now, oh, I know that I love you 
now ! Be this the proof, I would rather die the death 
of a hunted whelp than suffer that love to injure you 


202 


A woman’s revenge!. 


in thought or deed. All that is dangerous in such 
love as mine will be averted from you. My love for 
you, Fan, shall be that of the dearest friend on earth. 
I will watch over you like a spirit while I have life ; I 
will guard you ; if need be, guide you. So long as the 
shield of my protection — frail and insecure as my posi- 
tion may be — can extend over you, it shall. My love 
shall not harm you. Fan. I will be true and honorable 
to you, I swear it ! And when I cease to be, any death 
will be too good for me.” 

She sank sobbing on his breast, and he bent his head 
over her, in tears too. 

O, poor little Fan, what bliss to her to listen to such 
words ! She believed him — and felt so happy as she 
rested like a child upon his breast. 

Ross was roused from his abstraction by a short dry 
cough. He started from his position, and Fan with 
alarm from hers. Both beheld regarding them the old 
woman Meg. 

“ Look here, Mr. Smartcut, I wants to talk about 
her, because she’s the only thing that loves me yet,” 
she said, her features softening. “ I heard you say that 
you love her truthfully and faithfully.” 

“And so I do, by all that is sacred I ” 

“ Now,” said the old woman, “ I am satisfied ; and now 
I’ll serve you both. If I can’t outwit that old miser, 
deep, shrewd, and artful as he is — well, I’ll swallow 
the arsenic he has mixed up for me to take. Now, Fan, 
my pet, you come with me.” Then she bade Ross to 
remain where he was. 

As soon as they were gone, Ross drew from his coat a 
new revolver. 

“ I don’t like to be without a friend such as this,” he 
muttered, “ Hook is so prompt to think and act.” 


A woman’s revenge. 203 

In about ten minutes Meg appeared at tbe Sfecret 
door. She beckoned him, and he followed her. 

“ Not a word,” she whispered ; but when you stop 
where I shall place you, count one hundred ere you 
push open the door before you.” 

He assented, and then they went noiselessly on along 
a circuitous, narrow and dark passage. Suddenly the 
old woman Avhispered, 

“ Count ! ” 

Then he found that she had left him, and he com- 
menced to repeat the numerals up to one hundred. At 
the last figure he pushed open the door and peeped in. 
There was a strong light, but he could not see Hook. 
He saw a circuitous route between some packages, and 
he adopted it ; as he drew near, the quick ear of Hook 
caught the sound of his footsteps. He seized up the 
knife he always kept under his hand, and made a dash 
forward. 

“ Is that you, Meg, my woman ? ” he almost yelled. 

But he felt' himself at the same moment suddenly 
seized from bL'hind, and he was swung around with 
amazing force, as a voice cried : ^ 

“ No, it is not Meg ! It is I, Oscar Ross ! ” 

Hook staggered back. Before him stood Ross, firm 
and collected, presenting a pistol at his head. He 
pointed to the seat his ‘‘ friend ” always occupied. 

“ Sit,” he said, “ I want to pick a bone with you, 
my crafty infant.” 

Hook scowled at him like a tiger, but the light from 
the lamp flashed along the bright barrel of the pistol, 
and he crawled round the table and sank like a bag on 
his chair. 


204 


A woman" s KEVENGE. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 

Hook Flint had never for a second foreseen that at 
an unprepared moment Ross would confront him like 
a spectre, armed with a terrible weapon, in his own 
sanctum when he was alone. Yet here it was, a start- 
ling fact. 

Hook thought of Fan, and grated his teeth. The 
cowering form of the old woman, Meg, slowly passed 
before his bloodshot eyes. As the horrid thoughts and 
murderous intention passed through his brain, he be- 
came conscious that the bright eyes of Ross were fast- 
ened on his. 

A ghastly smile moved his lips ; he winked with both 
eyes and nodded. 

Ross leaned over the table, and his pistol, held in a 
firm steady hand, covered Hook’s head. 

He sat speechless and breathless. 

Ross broke the silence. 

“ You don’t appear to have expected me. Hook, my 
estimable, though slightly overreaching, colleague,” he 
said, with a hiss. 

“ Mr. Ross — I beg pardon. Major De Montrose,” ex- 
claimed Hook, with a sneer, “ go on.” 

“ Well then, Hook, to be brief, I employed you to 
assist me in accomplishing a woman’s revenge ” 

“ A — a woman’s revenge ? ” interposed Hook. 

“You know well what I mean — don’t interrupt me,” 
continued Ross, with a frown. “ One part of the 
scheme by which her hatred was to be sated was to 
obtain possession of a boy, one ” 


A woman’s revenge. 


205 


“ Harold Burdell ! ” replied Hook, hurriedly. “ Yes, 
yes, I know all that. You, unknown to any one but 
yourself, went in search of him, discovered him, ob- 
tained him, and — lost him, eh, Ross my friend? — lost 
him, eh, my friend ? ” 

“Lost him, I admit,” replied Ross, in the same tone. 
“ I was overpowered by numbers, and he was snatched 
from me. You then took up the search.” 

“ Me, Mr. Ross? ” 

Ross raised the pistol to his head, and Hook started 
back. 

“ Now, Hook, my infant, I want an interview with 
the girl and boy.” 

Hook found it hard to display a calm demeanor, and 
made some attempt to clear his throat, and said : 

“ You have made a statement, Mr. Ross, but it is 
only a statement, unsupported by a single proof.” 

With a sudden action Ross placed himself immedi- 
ately before Hook, and presented the pistol within an 
inch of his temple. He then cried : 

“ Restore to me those papers you stole from me when 
I was staying here. Quick ! falter, hesitate, and I send 
a bullet crashing through your brain.” 

“ I cannot — oh, I cannot ! ” cried Hook, sinking down 
on his knees. “ They have been stolen from me.” 

“ Bah ! ” cried Ross. “ Stolen from you ? ” 

“ I am bewildered — overwhelmed — almost mad ! 
Look at those papers, Ross. Are they of the same 
size you lost? ” 

“ Lost ! ” echoed Ross, with a hoarse laugh. 

He laid the pistol for a moment on the table, and 
examined them. He drew forth those Hook had sub- 
stituted for the genuine ones in his pocket-book, and 


206 


A woman’s eevenge. 


measured. They were both folded in the same man- 
ner, and were of the exact size. 

“ Wait, Ross, my friend,” exclaimed Hook, suddenly. 
‘ There is one chance left. I will go and search in an- 
other place. Oh, never fear, Ross, they shall be dis- 
gorged. Remain quiet here for a few minutes ; Til be 
back soon.” 

Hook hurried out of the room, and Ross heard the 
door close after him with a loud click, and the next 
moment a light touch upon his arm caused him to look 
up suddenly. 

At his side stood the little pale-faced Fan. She was 
evidently laboring under some excitement, and her 
hand trembled as it touched his sleeve. 

He gazed upon her with astonishment, and would 
have spoken, but she raised her finger to silence him. 

“ Not a word,” she whispered. “ You must fly at 
once ; follow me.” 

He started and turned his eyes upon the table. He 
hastily moved the papers and packages, but the pistol 
was gone. 

“ My father has taken it,” she said, as Ross looked 
at her. 

A flerce exclamation escaped him. 

“He believes that he has you securely fastened in 
this room, without a possibility of escape, and he is 
now on the search for me and Meg. She declares that 
neither her life nor mine are safe in this miserable den. 
She has prevailed on me to leave it wdth her. But, 
Oscar, I wojild not leave it without I was in a position 
to know that you w^ere released and safe away.” 

“I will go with you. Fan, and if your father comes 
near you to injure you — well, 111 teach him ” 

“ You will do all I ask and entreat of you? ” 


A woman's bevenge. 


20T 


“I will do all that you direct me, except separate 
from you for ever,” he exclaimed. 

‘‘Let us go,” she said, hurriedly. 

She led him to a small trap in the floor, which she 
noiselessly raised and descended. He followed her. 

In the meantime. Hook, chuckling at having out- 
witted Ross, whom he believed to be securely impris- 
oned in his sanctum, directed his steps, as Fan had 
suggested, in searcli of old Meg. 

There was a savage, murderous expression on his 
face, as with a noiseless step he glided along. He 
gripped the pistol, and proceeded cautiously to those 
rooms in one of which he expected to find Fan. He 
failed to discover her. He proceeded to her bedroom. 
The door was open — the bed was vacant. A strange 
feeling of misgiving took possession of him. He re- 
newed with rapidity his search for her in other places 
where he believed she could be, but he nowhere met 
with her. 

Soon he abandoned his search for her, and went to 
look for Meg. She, too, was not where he expected to 
find her. He increased his pace to a run. He called 
for her, he shouted her name ; but a mocking echo 
alone replied. 

Cold perspiration stood upon his forehead — a fear 
seized him. With gasping choking emotion, he rushed 
up to the room where he had confined Flora and Har- 
old Burdell. That room was empty, too. It echoed 
the wild cries of amazement, rage and frantic terror, 
which burst from his lips. They were gone, fled, spir- 
ited away. 

Frenzied, and breathing wild threats of vengeance, 
he repeated his examination of the room, but unsuc' 


208 


A woman’s revenge. 


cessfully ; and like a raging hyena he returned to his 
sanctum, to wreak some of his wild passion on Ross. 

He opened the door cautiously, and then burst in 
Avith a fiendish yell of laughter, which had murder in 
its tones, to find his room vacant too. 

With a desperate effort to regain his senses, he hunted 
in every corner where Ross could possibly have hidden 
himself — but in vain ; and then, foaming at the mouth, 
he shrieked ; 

“ Gone, too — all gone ! My race is run — I am de- 
stroyed ! My secrets are known. I shall hang — hang 
at Sing Sing, hang ! ” 

His whole frame became convulsed ; he writhed, 
twisted, dashed himself upon the floor, with all the hor- 
rible contortions of a dreadful fit. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

No sooner did Grace’s presence gratify Wilton 
Granger’s eyes, than he commenced a more ardent 
course of attention; for she was now Avith him alone. 
He artfully drew her attention to himself ; simulated 
acute anguish, and lamented his inability to wander 
out in the clear, fresh, sunny air. Grace looked at his 
pale face and fell into the trap. 

She asked him if he had strength enough to take a 
short Avalk in the park. He caught at the suggestion 
with such delight, that she felt glad that she made the 
proposition. 

This kindness of Grace’s resulted in morning walks, 
in afternoon strolls, and as the days grew longer, in 
evening rambles. 

But a day came when Wilton 'saAv Grace leave the 


A woman’s revenge. 


209 


house, and walk swiftly toward the woods. As she 
reached the edge of the pines, she clapped her hands 
three times. There was a short pause ; and then there 
emerged from the deep woods a man. He advanced 
quickly toward her. She sank into his arms. 

“ My child ! ” he murmured, pressing her to his breast, 
and kissing her forehead. “ My own, my beautiful 
child ! The miseries of the past seem to fade in the 
contemplation of your dear features.” 

“ Tell me of my mother, tell me who she was, and 
how I became separated from her at an age so young, 
that no remembrance of her obtains a place in my 
mind,” urged Grace, with earnestness. 

“ You, Grace, our first-born, were stolen from us.” 

“ Stolen from you ? ” echoed Grace, with surprise. 
“Why?” 

“ It is a secret not yet to be unfolded,” he replied. 
“ It was the first act in that drama in which my hapj)i- 
ness was systematically destroyed.” 

With what object ? ” 

“ That I have yet to learn ; but the solution of the 
mystery can not be far off,” he answered. 

“You are, you have told me, a Montrose.” 

“I am,” he replied. 

“A near relative to Milroy Falcon?” she asked. 

“ A cousin,” he replied. 

“ And my mother ? was she not also a ^lontrose ? ” 

“She was,” he said. “It has been a prophecy ex- 
istent from almost the earliest history of the family, 
that if a Montrose married a Montrose, he would be 
tied to sorrow ; his love would prove fatal to his bride, 
and the source of intolerable misery to himself. There 
is no exception, in the history of the family, to the ful- 
fillment of this accursed tradition. But I hope in a 
14 


210 


A woman's eevengb. 


short time to claim you as my daughter ; then you 
may without fear acknowledge your love for one who 
is now stealing and lurking about, a mere wretched 
outcast, alone and friendless.” 

“ Not friendless,” cried Grace, quickly, “ nor unloved 
— nor yet alone, if you would let me share your des- 
tiny with you.” 

“ The time has not yet come, Grace,” he returned, 
hurriedly; “but it shall come. But tell me, my child, 
how have you spent all your life at Falcon Manor, and 
with Mildred Dupont?” 

“I have only been a short time at Falcon Manor, 
and with Mildred Dupont. Since I left my school- 
prison, I have been living with a man who claimed he 
was my father. He goes by the name of Oscar Ross.” 

“ Oscar Ross I ” thundered the father. “ I must know 
more of this.” 

Grace related as briefly as possible the incidents con- 
nected with her removal from the wretched tenement in 
lower New York to the residence of Milroy Falcon, 
under the protection of Mildred Dupont. 

“Do you tell me that INIildred Dupont was on 
friendly terms with the ruflian Ross? ” 

“ She supplied him with money when he required it, 
and evidently possessed the greatest power over him. 
It was she who advanced the money which paid my 
school account; she who seemed at first to believe that 
he was my father; tried to induce me to believe it; 
and then assured me that he was not.” 

He seized Grace by the wrist. He said between his 
teeth : 

“ Grace, ’this woman, this Mildred Dupont, was your 
mother’s dearest friend. She it was who first discov- 


A woman's revenge. 


211 


ered the secret meetings between my lost Grace and 
myself in the plantation of the black pines ” 

Grace uttered an exclamation of surprise. 

“ She who contrived the secret plan of our union,” 
he continued. “ The mist which has so long clouded 
my vision is commencing to clear away. Now there 
dawns upon my mind a terrible fact. ^Anguu in herha'! 
True to the tradition of the family, O Mildred Dupont, 
thou art the serpent which has stung me ! Beware now 
of my fangs! It is terrible to think that I must still 
suffer you to remain in her power ; but I have faith in 
you ” 

“ You may,” she exclaimed. 

“ Keep hidden from her that you know of my exist- 
"ence,” he- continued. “ She must not have the slight- 
est suspicion that you have discovered yourself to be 
the daughter of the real Major Montrose.” 

‘‘ I will be cautious, you may be sure — I will guard 
the secret as my life,” she returned. 

“ Events are slowly approaching to a crisis, that I 
can perceive,” he said. “ There will be a ruin and a 
desolation, but not where anticipated. I ask of you, 
Grace, to remain in your present position for a short 
time.” 

“ Mildred Dupont has told me that I have a sister and 
a brother. You have not spoken of them.” 

“ They are to me as you were until we met here — 
Hark ! I hear footsteps. You shall know, as before, 
when I can meet you, and where.” 

He pressed a hasty kiss upon her forehead, and 
plunged into the woods and disappeared. 

A footstep ! Grace’s heart beat quickly as she per- 
ceived, suddenly, a tall, rough-looking man, with a vil- 


212 


A woman’s kevenge. 


lainous-looking sinister aspect, steal through the alley 
made by the stumps of old trees. 

In the meantime Wilton Granger had continued his 
progress, with a view of overtaking her. 

“ I must make one of the party,” he muttered. 

At this instant he found himself face to face with 
her. 

“ You appear to be fond of strolling in the woods. 
Miss Montrose,” he said, with an easy nonchalant air. 

The face of Grace assumed an expression ill-calcu- 
lated to impress Wilton with a notion that he was mak- 
ing any advancement in her favor. 

“ What have I done, Mr. Granger, that you speak 
such words to me ? ” 

“ It is plain to me that you regard me with indiffer- 
ence, if not with positive aversion,” he replied ; “ while 
I — oh. Hove you passionately, Grace ! I have at times 
fancied that my heart had been won by others, but be- 
lieve me, until we met, I knew not the true sentiment 
of love — had never one feeling approaching the adc ra- 
tion I feel for you. I cannot rest, I ” 

“ Mr. Granger, it is ungenerous of you and ungentle- 
manly, to take advantage of my present position to ad- 
dress me in a language to which I decline to listen. You 
are the guest of Milroy Falcon ; I must request him to 
protect me from such persecution as you are displaying 
toward me, unless you at once discontinue it. , Let me 
pass, sir.” 

Awed in spite of himself by the dignity of her man- 
ner, he fell back, and she passed on. Unmolested by 
him, and not a little delighted to find that such was 
the case, Grace hastened on, taking now the direct 
path to the house. 

As she passed a group of trees, some distance be- 


A woman’s revenge. 


218 


yond where she had left Wilton, two men sprang from 
behind them and faced her. Sinking with terror she 
recognized in one Oscar Ross. 

A faint scream burst from her lips, her sight ap- 
peared to leave her suddenly, and a dizziness to seize 
her. Then she felt herself lifted from the ground and 
borne swiftly away. 

She remembered no more. 

***** 

Oscar Ross was startled to find on reaching the street 
in company with Fan, that after breathing an adjura- 
tion in his ear to fly by the most unfrequented streets to 
his own home, his companion had flitted from him and 
disappeared. 

He gazed sharply around him, but she was gone — dis- 
appeared, he could not tell where or how. And so he 
sought his own abode. 

To the place appointed to receive his letters, he went 
frequently to get the reply to the one he had sent to 
Mildred Dupont. It came not. 

He dispatched another epistle to her. There was no 
delay in the response. It was returned in the envelope, 
in two halves, unread. He set his teeth, and his brow 
lowered. 

“It has come to this, at last,” he muttered. “ I have 
feared to lose her, because she always supplied me with 
funds. I have cowered at her determined face, she 
shall cower at me now. My first move shall be to take 
Grace from her. She instructed me to act as her 
father; and, though I was always led to believe my 
own little one died in infancy, yet this girl may be 
that child. I will act as if she were. Grace is at 
Falcon Manor, walks in satins, and rides in carriages. 
She shall live with me here. I shall be a match for 


214 


A woman’s revenge. 


her now. She may threaten self-destruction if T keep 
her close — and she may kill herself before. I will set 
her free — and I will not let her go until I have gained 
my point with Mildred. I will see Whitney Burdell. 
Whew! that’s a good thought. I have it. He shall 
help me. The likeness between Flora and Grace is 
remarkable. I will persuade the melon-headed gen- 
tleman that Grace is Flora; and that if we get her in 
our power, the boy is sure to beconle our prize. I shall 
consider that done.” 

When the shadows of night closed in, Fan paid Ross 
a visit. 

“ I have been so anxious to see you, Fan,” he ex- 
claimed. 

“ I presumed as much,” she replied. “ My father is 
actively employed in attempting to find us.” 

‘‘Your father?” 

“After leaving you I returned to his room ” 

“ But first tell me. Fan, did not the girl and boy ac- 
company you in your flight ? ” 

“ I will tell you this much — I know more respect- 
ing them than you imagine — they have left my father.” 

“ They will not be of much use to anybody in the 
shape of reward, unless certain papers be delivered up 
with them.” 

“ Those of which you were robbed? ” 

He nodded. 

“And which you claimed of my father?” 

“ The same.” 

“ They are safe,” she said. 

He snapped his fingers with delight. 

“I see it all,” he cried. “ You have, them. Restore 
them to me ” 

The door flew back with a violent bang. Both 
sprang from their mutual embrace, and beheld in the 
doorway Nan Lings, with her eyes like glowing coals, 
fastened upon 'Oscar Ross. 

She rushed with uplifted knife at Fan, who crouched, 
shrieking with terror. 

Ross’s eyes caught the flashing glitter of the knife, 
and he sprang forward to meet her. He caught her 


A woman’s revenge. 


215 


upraised arm in one hand, and passed the other round 
her waist. There was a desperate struggle for a 
minute ; but his strength mastered hers, and he forced 
her to the floor. A moment more, and he wrenched 
the knife from her grasp. Then she fainted. 

At first he thought she was dead. But she soon ral- 
lied, and springing to her feet, gasped : “ Where is 

she ? ” catching up her knife, which lay upon the floor, 
and concealing it. 

“ Be silent, and listen to me. Nan. You are a goose. 
Do you not know who the girl is?” 

“ Hold, liar — wretch ! I will not hear you ! ” 
shrieked Nan. “ Where is she? She shall die, and I 
will perish with her I We cannot both live — we will 
die together, and by my hand.” 

As she spoke, she dashed out of the room, down the 
stairs, out of the house and away at a frantic speed af- 
ter a receding object dimly discernible in the distance, 
closely followed by Oscar Ross. 

The chase after Nan was not long continued. Ross 
soon overtook the frantic woman, clasped her tightly 
about the waist, and seizing the wrist of the hand which 
clutched the formidable knife, held it firmly until'he 
could recover his breath to speak to her. 

“Be calm. Nan, we must take matters coolly. To 
be plain. Nan, I am quite sure you do not suppose Swift 
Lane to be thinking of me, sitting with his hands in his 
pockets, under a tree.” 

“ He is hunting for you in every direction, for he 
believes that you know where the boy and girl are.” 

“I did know,” observed Ross, “ but do not now; 
though I may, and soon, if you do not spoil all.” 

“ I ? ” exclaimed Nan. 

“ Well, then there is sly Hook Flint, in hot search 
after me, anxious to display as much passionate affec- 
tion for me as your brother Swift. There are others, 
too, who are equally desirous of obtaining an inter- 
view with me. They are approaching me from all 
points; that is why I have chosen a spot retired as 
this and why I wish to remain alone.” 

“ Alone ! ” 


216 


A woman's kkvenge. 


‘‘ Precisely.” 

“I will never leave you more — I cannot, I will not! 
I would rather that you stab me and fling me into yon- 
der river.” 

‘‘ You may and shall be near me, Nan, if you please, 
but not with me. There is a single apartment down 
the street to let. Being so late at night it will be a 
very good time to go and hire it for yourself.” 

“ Be it so, I will obey you, but beware how you at- 
tempt to play me false ; for if you do, though my 
heart would break the next moment, 1 should kill 
you.” 

He saw her installed in her room, and then left her 
for his own quarters. 

****** 

Shortly after, the absence of Grace was discovered. 
Servants with torches, and the whole house went out 
in search ; but the servants would not enter the planta- 
tion of black pines. 

Wilton indignantly vowed that he would go there 
alone ; but Mildred calmly told him that she would' ac- 
company him. 

A torch was kindled, and together they entered the 
dark alleys of the tall pines, leaving the servants in 
silent horror at the outskirts. 

To Wilton the whole way, so carefully and with such 
evident knowledge threaded by Mildred, was a source 
of speculation and wonder. This feeling was height- 
ened when she paused before the building covering the 
old crypt. 

She silently pointed to the door, and passed within, 
followed by Wilton with the torch. She called Grace 
in a loud tone ; a sullen echo alone answered. 

She pointed to the descending stairs, and beckoned 
him to follow ; he obeyed, and went slowly down after 
her. 

As she reached the bottom stair she uttered a pierc- 
ing shriek. 

That instant* the torch was wrenched from the grasp 


Woman's kevenge. 21 ? 

of Wilton «aiid extinguished, leaving him and his com- 
panion in the most intense darkness. 

* * ^ ^ 

We return now to another phase of our story. 

Hook Flint returned to consciousness, after the 
mighty shock occasioned by a discovery which for a 
time had suspended life. He cowered to the floor in 
an intensity of abject despondency. 

“ They have all got away — they are gone — where ? 
Can 1 not get at the secret? ” 

He gathered himself up as daylight penetrated into 
the dark house, and opened his store at the usual hour. 
He peered under his eyebrows at his first visitor, and 
uttered a grunt of satisfaction. 

“ What, Jesse Lings I ” he exclaimed. What brought 
you to New York?” 

The man shook his head gloomily and said : 

“ My wife’s run away from me, old Hook.” 

“What, with Oscar Ross? ” 

Jesse’s chest heaved spasmodically. 

“ I believe you’ve hit the right nail on the head this 
time, old Hook ; the last nail to be driven home in his 
coffin, and hers — hers ! I’ll tear her limb from limb 
when I catch her, and then I care not if I swing for 
the pair.” 

“ Have you any clue to them ? ”* asked Hook. 

“ None ! ” replied Jesse. 

Hook suggested that he might carry his revenge too 
far, although he did hope in his heart that he would 
keep his word. However, he requested Jesse to go and 
call Swift Lane, in that he might give them the required 
advice, and, as he said, have no more to do with the 
matter which in no way personally affected or con- 
cerned him. 

Jesse obeyed, and in a very few minutes returned 
with the giant gipsy. Swift Lane, whose eyes Hook 
quickly detected fastened upon him. 

The first movement was to find Oscar Ross, and the 
three set about it as only such cunning crafty men 
know how. They tracked Ross to his abode. Night 


218 


A woman’s IIEVEN(^. 

came on. They knew Ross to be no butterfly, flying 
abroad in the sunshine ; but they believed that he 
would issue forth in the dark, and they arranged to 
pounce upon him as he quitted his dwelling. Then, 
Hook, knowing Ross’s desperate courage, was in hopes 
that he would be murdered by Swift Lane and Jesse ; 
while he trusted to his own address to secure the best 
advantage from the circumstances to follow. 

Hook, posted in the shadow of a house, became sud- 
denly aware of the approaching figure of a female, who 
came forward as though she was a phantom. She 
passed i5lose to where he crouched ; and as she went by 
he gasped for breath. He saw her face — it was Fan ! 

Oh horror ! one word, and she knew that she was in 
the tight grip of her father. 

“ Mine, Fan I mine — you are mine again ! ” he said, 
with intense vindictiveness in his tone. “ Oh, but Fll 
punish you for this ! I’ll make you remember leaving a 
fond father ” 

A voice growled in his ear : 

“ Release her ! Release her ! Attempt but to follow 
her, and your doom will be on your own head ! ” 

“Aha! ha I Oscar Ross — Oscar Ross!” shouted 
Hook, and presented a pistol at him. 

In an instant it was wrenched from him, Fan torn 
from his grasp, and a blow from the butt end of a pistol 
upon his head hurled him senseless into the gutter. 

Ross saw approaching him, leaping and running, two 
men. A glance told him who they were. He set his 
teeth hard together — he could tell by the weight upon 
his arm that Fan had fainted. He lowered her on to 
the steps of the adjacent house, then leveled the pistol 
and fired. Swift Lane fell heavily to the ground. Ross 
then dashed up to Jesse Lings, and struck him a 
violent blow upon the skull, and felled him stunned to 
the earth. 

Another minute, and he was fleeing away with Fan 
at a rapid pace, carrying her like a sleeping child in his 
arms. He turned down into a dark alley, and remained 
there until Fan was sufficiently recovered to proceed 
further. Ross did not deem it safe for Fan or himself 


A woman’s kevenge. 


210 


to return to their respective dwellings, so they got into 
a horse-car and rode to the extreme end of the city. 
Arrived at a low rambling house, Ross turned Fan over 
to the woman who answered his knock at the door, 
with strict orders to make her as comfortable as pos- 
sible, while he went in search of the proprietor and 
accommodations for himself. 

The next night, as he was on his way back to the 
city, he was felled to the ground. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Oscar Ross was borne by six stalwart men, through 
unfrequented roads, for many nights, lying by during 
the day-time. Once, w^hile they were resting, Xan — 
who had secretly dogged their steps — approached, and 
would have liberated him, but for the approach of one 
of his custodians. At length they arrived, with their 
prisoner, at the gipsy encampment. Here they found 
Swift Lane, who was about to have Ross hung, but was 
prevented by the timely appearance of old Mr. Burdell. 

While these things were occurring. Fan — who had 
restored Flora and the boy to their father and sister 
Grace, j;he latter having been rescued from the ruffians 
by Roderick D'Olier and placed in the safe-keeping of 
her father — set out alone in search of the gipsies, with 
the purpose of endeavoring to save Ross. 

Fan, upon arriving at the encampment, found that 
Swift Lane and his companions had determined to exe- 
cute Ross ; and were only kept at bay by Nan, who, 
with a poisoned dagger in her grasp, threatened to stab' 
the first person who dared to lay hands on him. Old 
Mr. Burdell had in vain tried to persuade the men to 
forego their anxiously longed-for vengeance. 

Ross seemed prepared to meet his doom. He im- 
parted to Mr. Burdell all that he knew respecting 
Mildred Dupont and her machinations, and in a tremu- 
lous whisper, commended poor Fan to the old man’s 
protection. At this instant Nan shrieked out : 


220 


A woman's revenge. 


“ Beware — beware — they mean foul play ! ” 

At this instant there were sudden and startling cries. 
A fox came dashing over the brow of the hill, down 
into the hollow. After him came rushing pell-mell a 
pack of yelling hounds. The whole place in an instant 
was in disorder. Ross saw his chance, and cried in a 
loud voice, while all the men stood for a moment as if 
changed into statues : 

“ Nan, cut these cords ! Quick ! quick ! ” 

“ Never ! ” shouted, Jesse Lings, hoarsely. Fve 
sworn to have your life, and I’ll have it ! ” 

He flung himself upon Nan, wrested the knife out of 
her hand, and swinging round before Ross, raised his 
hand, and with desperate force aimed the dagger at his 
heart. Nan was too quick, however, for in that instant 
she sprang before Ross and received the blow. 

It was delivered with such violence that it penetrated 
to her heart. A shriek, as she fell, was the only 
sound she uttered. She was dead almost as soon as 
she reached the ground. 

Without waiting to measure the result of this unin- 
tended crime, Jesse Lings, not to be foiled, maddened 
by the intervention -of Nan, sprang again at Ross with 
the knife he had never released from his grip, and 
struck him heavil}" with it on the breast. 

At this moment horsemen, pursuing the hounds, ap- 
peared on the crest of the hill, and upon seeing them 
Jesse Lings turned and fled at his utmost speed, follow- 
ing the course the hounds had taken ; but not until 
Mr. Burdell, who had witnessed with horror his double 
crime, discharged his pistol at him. 

As the report of the pistol filled the glen with its 
echoes, Jesse Lings turned wildly around and disap- 
peared over the hill. 

Ross, like Nan, fell beneath Jesse Lings’ blow, but 
he was not dead. Fan knelt down beside him, and 
supported his head against her breast. 

“ Where is Nan ? ” he asked. 

“ She lies here, but she is dead. The villain’s blow 
was fatal on the instant,” said Mr. Burdell. 

“It is better so,” murmured Ross. He gasped for 


A woman’s kevenge. 


221 


breath twice, then turning his face to Fan, he said, “ I 
had much to say to you, but it must go unsaid, for 1 
can tell by the coldness which is seizing me that I have 
but time for a few words. Fan, I believe you love 
me.” 

Oh, the agony with which she wept as those words 
fell upon her ears ! 

‘‘ Let it be a consolation to you, to know in the 
quiet, and I pray with my dying breath they may be 
peaceful and happy hours yet to come for you, that I 
loved you truly, purely, and in deep sincerity. I have 
been thankful and grateful for your love ; and — closer 
— my voice — it is hard to speak — Mildred Dupont, see 
her, ask Mr. Burdell where to find her — tell her that 
she stung the hand that fed her — that the poison of 
her fang has done its work — that the creature she fash- 
ioned died with — with a curse ” 

“ No, no, no, Oscar — dear Oscar, pass not away with 
a curse upon your lips.” 

“ Even as — you — you — will ; tell her I died here — 
and thus — it will be enough.” 

He paused. The cold, clammy dew of death stood 
thickly on his forehead ; he panted and gasped for 
bre'ath. 

“ Fan I— Fan ! ” he whispered. 

She bent her face down to his ; she kissed his dying 
lips, and bent her ear to catch the last word. She 
heard faintly : 

“ Bless you — will bless you — I ” 

A convulsive spasm passed over his frame, and she 
fell fainting upon his dead body. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

It was a week after the happening of the fearful 
events of the last chapter, that Mildred Dupont was 
alone at Falcon Manor. One morning she was in- 
formed that a young girl desired to have an interview 
with her. She ordered that the stranger be admitted, 
A pale, heart-weary girl came in. 


222 


A woman’s bevenge. 


“ I am Fan Flint,” she exclaimed, in a low tone. “ I 
have much to say to you, madame, of grave import- 
ance, in which you are personally and deeply interested. 
Will you please listen to me ? ” 

“ One moment,” Mildred interposed. “ Are you the 
daughter of Hook Flint?” 

“ Of him, madame, whom you have employed, and 
who is now in prison,” replied Fan. 

“ In prison l ” faltered Mildred. 

“ Under your instruction, he endeavored to abduct 
the son of Mr. Burdell Montrose ; but he was detected, 
and, with a companion, captured. He was fully com- 
mitted for trial on the day of his examination ; and 
the sessions of the criminal court being on, he was 
tried at once, and sentenced to penal servitude for 
twenty years. Officers have taken possession of his 
property, and it is all confiscated to the State. It is 
not, however, to speak of him that I came to you. I 
have a mission to you from one who — is — who — is 
dead.” 

“ Who ? ” Mildred gasped. 

^‘Roland Montrose,” replied Fan. 

Mildred sat as rigid as a marble figure. 

“ To the tender interest displayed in me by Grace 
and Flora Montrose you may attribute this revelation 
being made through my lips. Old grandfather Burdfell 
Falcon was with me when Oscar was killed.” 

She handed a note to Mildred, who shook her head, 
and in a voice of indistinct articulation, said : 

“ Read it.” 

Fan opened it, and read in a subdued, voice : 

“Major Montrose’s Daughter and Son:— Do not ask why 
you doomed them all to the years of acute misery. They ask 
not why you should have played the terrible part, appearing 
in the family only once in a century, and known to it as 
* Angitis in herha* ; they only wish you to depart from Falcon 
Manor.” 

“ Tell me of him who has perished, now — conceal 
nothing — I would know all.” 

When Fan came to the last moments of Oscar, and 


A woman’s revenge. 


223 


repeated the words he had used, together with her own 
intervention, Mildred slid from her seat, burying her 
face in her hands and weeping bitterly ; then she rose 
up and said to Fan : . 

“Kemain here until the morning, I entreat you. I 
will then give you an answer, in writing, to the com- 
munication you have brought to me.” 

Mildred then hastened out of the room. That night, 
as Fan was about to retire to rest, Mildred appeared in 
her room. She placed in her hands a paper. 

“ It is for Milroy Falcon. Give it into his hands and 
no other’s.” She then handed to her another paper. 
“ It is my will,” she said. “ I bequeath to you all I die 
possessed of. It is in accordance with the wishes of 
him whom I loved no less than yourself, but whom I 
ruined, while you faithfull}^ served him. Not a word 
more.’' 

She left the room, staggering rather than walking. 

Far in the night Fan saw that the plantation of the 
black pines was on fire ! She dressed herself hastily, 
secured her papers, and made her way to the depot. 
She took the first train to New York, and when she 
arrived, she communicated to Major Montrose what had 
happened, and he with Milroy Falcon hurried to the 
scene of disaster. The house was saved, but the whole 
of the plantation of the black pines was in ashes. The 
building covering the crypt was a charred mass of ruin 
and devastation. Nowhere was there a trace of Mildred 
Dupont. Her letter to Milroy Falcon was opened and 
read to the family. It ran thus! 

“ Milroy, when you have read these lines destroy them, and 
with them will perish the last evidence of the existence of 
one who is not worthy one thought. For the wrong I have 
done I dare not ask forgiveness, for I have no atonement to 
make. I was left an orphan at an early age, but old enough 
to comprehend the tutelage given to me by a father previous 
to his own self-destruction— he having not the courage to 
survive inevitable discovery of the great crime he had perpe- 
trated. ‘ You will be received in the family of a relative,’ he 
said. ‘You will be dependent. Hate those who give you 
bread, as they would the animals they would keep out of 
sentiment! You will be so kept, fed, and treated.’ I have 
played the part. The blow I would have inflicted on all has 


224 


A woman’s revenge. 


fallen on myself and crushed me. I would if I could undo 
the past. I will avert future evil from you and all those con- 
nected with you. The black pines shall be destroyed by the 
hand of your'eiiemy! and there I will perish with them.” 

Milroy Falcon refused to remain in possession of 
Falcon Manor. The papers which Fan had given up 
proved the title and deed vested in Major Montrose, 
Grace’s father. A handsome income was allotted to 
Milroy Falcon. Grace bestowed her hand upon Rod- 
erick D’Olier. Flora and Harold made their new-found 
father’s home bright for many years. 

And there was a young gentleman, who, believing 
Dottie Burdell to be the loveliest of her sex, resolved to 
make her his queen. Ora D’Olier married a young 
millionaire, who proved a devoted lover and husband. 
Wilton Granger disappeared so that he might get clear 
of the consequences of his ill-doings. 

Poor Fan ! She did not repine at inevitable destiny, 
but her heart lay buried wdth Oscar Ross, her first love 
and her last. She placed poor IMeg beyond the reach 
of want or injury. And so, having done all, she left 
the fortune Mildred Dupont had bequeathed to her to 
a noble charity, with strict injunctions that she should 
be laid by the side of Oscar Ross when she died. 
Poor Fan, one fair day, she having been gradually sink- 
ing, smiled sweetly on Grace and Flora, who were 
kneeling at her side, and breathing the name of Oscar, 
soft and low, turned her face to the wall, and, as an 
infant passing into slumber, so died, having done in her 
life more good than there had evil been done by 
“ Mildred Dupont.” 


0 


THE END. 



o ooooooooooooooooooooooooo o o o o 


Bf»S 



Painless. 


Effectual. 


REMEMBER THAT BEECHAM’S PILLS ^ 

ARE 

A WOXDERFIIL. IHEDICIIVE 

FOR ALL 

BILIOUS AND NEBVOUS DISORDERS 

SUCH AS 

CONSTIPATION, 

WEAK STOMACH, 
SICK - HEADACHE, 
LOSS OF APPETITE, 
IMPAIRED DIGESTION, 

DISORDERED LIVER AND ALL KINDRED DISEASES. 

Prepared only by Thos. Beecham, St. Helens, Lancashire, England. B. P. 
Allen Co., Sole Agents for United States. 365 and 367 Canal St., N. Y., who (If 
your druggist . oesnot keep them) will mail Beecham’s Pills on receipt of price, 2oc. — 
but inquire first. Correspondents will please mention J. S. Ooilvib’s Books. 


o o o o o o oooooooocosooooooocooooo 



In many towns where this wonderful medicine has been 
introduced, and given a fair trial, it has aliolished the family 
medicine chest, and been found sufficient to cure nine-tenths 
of the ordinary complaints incident to humanity ; and when 
diseases of months and years are thus removed or palliated in 
a few days, it is not wonderful that Beecham’s Pills should 
maintain their acknowledged popularity in both hemispheres. 
They cost only 25 cents, although the proverbial expres- 
sion all over the world is tliat they are “ worth a guinea a 
box,” for in truth one box will oftentimes be the means of 
saving more than one guinea in doctor’s bills. 




The Dayli 

Central draft, of course. Wick raised 
and lowered by our wheel system. 

It doesn’t stick. 

Wick doesn’t have to be a ^ inch 
above the rim to give a good light. 

Fact is, we have never seen a lamp 
which exposes so little wick as 
the “ Daylight.” 

So the wick doesn’t char. 

So the oil burns with a clearer light. 
Craighead & Kintz Co,, Salesroom, 

33 Barclay street, New York. Factory, 
Ballardvale, Mass. 

Lamp. 




Piano, Banquet and Table 
sizes. The Daylight Lamp 
Co., 38 Park Place, New 
York, will give you further 
information. 







library 



CONGRESS 



ooD22afi4a4n 











